


One hundred

by HawthornBlood141



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 24,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornBlood141/pseuds/HawthornBlood141
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of moments in Ron and Hermione's lives, based on 100 prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : So I'm starting a 100 prompts writing drabbles project, thanks to ImNotSpeakingToYou who inspired me to do so and also gave me the tools ;-) I kind of cheated and used a mix of several prompts tables and made up my own, so it's all random. I'm fairly sure it'll be all Romione, but who knows what will happen!
> 
> I want to keep it fun and not stressful, which means I'll probably post the drabbles/ficlets/snippets/short one shots, without having them beta-read first. I hope you'll bear with me and just enjoy them as they'll come…
> 
> Here it comes !

**1\. Mirror**

She is fourteen the first time she stands in front of the Mirror of Erised.

She stumbles upon it by accident, caught in between two intertwined classes on her schedule and she has to hide quickly so no one will see. The time turner makes her life hectic and she ends up in an empty dusty classroom on the 4th floor. The Mirror is pushed back in a corner, half hidden under a worn out blue velvet curtain.

What she sees renders her speechless.

She - _her reflection_ \- is holding hands with a certain infuriating redhead boy.

The room suddenly begins to spin and she feels dizzy. She turns around promptly and leaves, her heart stuck in her throat.


	2. Fingertips

**2\. Fingertips**

Several years after the war, she still has moments, fleeting  _seconds,_  when she loses grasp of where she is and her fingertips go numb.

And then it burns.

One day, it's too much to take.

She goes see Neville. She knocks and waits anxiously until he opens the door. When he does, he is wiping his hand on the apron he wears around his waist, traces of flour still on his shirt.

"H- How long did it take?" she asks immediately, all manners gone, because  _she has to know._

"How long did it take to what?" he replies, unsettled by her frantic state.

She doesn't want to say it. She wants him to understand and just tell her. Quickly. She cannot bear another moment of this.

She sighs, trembling all over, and casts Neville an apologetic glance before she braces herself to speak.

"How long did it take, for your parents succumb to dementia, after..."

_Crucio._

Her throat is too tight and she tries too hard to conceal the tremors coursing through her body. She can't speak.

Thankfully, Neville realises what she is asking. He looks at her, aghast, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. She nearly runs up to him and shakes him until he gives her an answer. She can't stand his silence and almost whimpers in anticipation.

"None."

The word echoes loudly in the quiet room.

"They lost all concept of who they were before she was even finished with them."

Everything starts to spin.


	3. Bed

**3\. Bed**

It's Sunday morning and he is waking up.

As soon as he hears the heavy rain outside the window, he decides he needs to go back to sleep immediately and turns around groggily to wrap his arms around Hermione.

But her space is empty, the sheets still slightly warm. That wakes him up immediately.

He finds her in the kitchen, sipping her morning coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. She's wrapped in one of his old Christmas jumper - too small for him but perfect for her - and barely anything else. He takes in her bare legs, her right foot tapping the floor softly, and her modest blue striped cotton underwear peeking out from underneath his jumper. Her hair is wild and messy, just how he likes it.

He grins.

He knows exactly where he wants to spend this rainy day with her.


	4. Born

**4\. Born**

James is born, and she's in tears the second she lays eyes on him for the first time.

Yes, Ron's brothers already have several children and the Weasleys have been family long before Ron and her got married, but this is different.

James is  _Ginny's son_ , and she is the closest thing to a sister she'll ever get. She has clear memories of a younger Ginny heartbroken over Harry, of a strong teenager stubbornly holding her head high in front of her teasing brothers, and then of a young woman crying at her brother's funeral.

Hermione laughs and cries at the same time as Harry puts the newborn into her arms.

That's when it hits her.

James is also  _Harry's_  son.

Whatever she was feeling before is nothing compared to this newfound realisation. She can't even process this information.

It doesn't seem real.

She casts a glance around the room and smiles as she witnesses Harry kissing Ginny's forehead tenderly. She then lays eyes on Ron who is staring back at her with an intensity that makes her heart skips beats. She finally looks down at the tiny bundle in her arms, and the baby sighs contentedly.

She doesn't recall a time when she's  _loved_  so much, when it has been so raw.

She feels  _so much._


	5. Snow

**5\. Snow**

She watches the tiny snowflakes fall and stick onto the ground through the dirty windows of Grimmauld Place.

Mrs Weasley clearly tried very hard to make the house warm and welcoming, but despite her best efforts, Hermione still constantly feels cold. She doesn't know if it's the weather, the grim house or the knowledge that something fundamentally _bad_  is undergoing in the Wizarding World.

The snow also reminds her of where she was supposed to be.

Skiing.

With her parents.

And the guilt that had left her alone peacefully for a few minutes rushes back like a slap in the face.

She shivers, she feels even colder now.

She curls herself deeper in her wooly jumper, her eyes leave the soft slow falling of the snow and find Ron.

Like they always do lately.

She catches him  _staring_  at  _her._

She isn't cold anymore.

 


	6. Rain

**6\. Rain**

It's pouring.

 _March showers,_  she reminds herself fleetingly as she watches the sand, the sea and the rain merge as one.

She's tired all the time.

Her body is still sore after the Cruciatus, and her mind is frustratingly hazy. She has trouble just to  _think._

She knows they are heading toward the end of their journey, she can feel it. There is so many possible outcomes -  _good and bad,_  it makes her head spin. She recognises the signs of her body and mind beginning to spiral down toward a dark place. Just like the nightmares, except that she's awake. She doesn't want to, but it's too hard to stop.

"Hey."

Ron's voice behind her startle her out of her reverie and she turns around quickly. Too quickly. The war is doing that to her.

He buries his hands in his front pockets, a tortured apologetic look on his face. The war is doing that to him.

She  _hates_  it.

But having Ron close to her allows her head to spin in a  _very_  different way. Her heart races whenever she sees him, her body shivers and her mind lights up. The way he looks at her, eyes burning into her, makes her feel unlimited.

"I was going to make tea, do you want some?"

"I'd love to," She acquiesces, smiling softly. His face lights up and she finds that lopsided grin of his she loves again.

"Wait!" She yelps as he turns to leave. She grabs his arm, her hand curling around his elbow. Too many words jump at the forefront of her mind at once and she finds herself out of breath. She fights the tight lump in her throat, because when she looks at him, she just feels  _so much_  and words are not enough.

"Thank you."  _For the tea. For coming back. For saving me._

His eyes widen slightly, he seems to understand that she doesn't mean just the tea.

"Anytime," he shrugs, his voice raspy as if he's holding back tears. Then, he squeezes her hand and leaves the room.

She looks outside again and smiles.

The rain has stopped.

 


	7. Morning

**7\. Morning**

She doesn't recall the last time she didn't want to go to work.

But today, she just  _doesn't._

She'd much rather stay in bed, all day mind you, with  _her fiancé._

_They're engaged._

Ron proposed, or maybe she did...

She's not sure. The previous night is a bit blurry because she felt too much.

He had wore a nice suit, one she hadn't seen before and cooked dinner. When dessert came, Ron had looked at her with rapt intensity before his voice began quivering as he said  _many_  nice things about her.  _About them_. She figured immediately where he was getting at.

Of course she would.

She hadn't meant to ruin his proposal but she hadn't been able control herself. She just blurted it out first.

_Marry me._

He had stared at her wide eyes, gaping mouth and hands still shaking. Before she knew it, Hermione had a ring on her finger and Ron was kissing her, laughing disbelievingly.

She turns and looks at him sleeping soundly next to her. She sighs contentedly and smiles as she kisses her way up his arm toward his mouth. He's awake when her lips touch his.

She's definitely not going to work today.


	8. Dinner

**8\. Dinner**

He's stressed because what if she says no.

_She won't say no._

But what if she does.

He wants everything to be _perfect._  Because you only get to do this once.

_And she won't say no._

He buys a new suit. She always loves when he wears fancy clothes, not that she doesn't like it when he's in his regular robes, just that she has that look on her face when he's in a suit, it makes him feel taller.

He frets over dinner, buys flowers and lights up candles. Everything the books say to do for a romantic proposal.

She's not the typical girly girl, and he knows he could probably propose in his pyjamas on a Sunday morning over burnt toasts and she'd accept. But he loves her, he can try to make it perfect for her.

She gets home and immediately her eyes fall on him, then his suit, the flowers on the table and the candles around the room. She's pleased and surprised he can tell. Her eyes burn with desire and he can feel his own heart swell with love and pride. She's his and if she says yes  _-she won't say no,-_  she'll be his forever.

They began to eat dinner, everything is perfect.

But then she ruins all his plan.

_Marry me._

After all, she's been doing that all his life.

He fought a troll because of her, he never imagined he'd fall for her but then one day he realised her well-being was greater than his own feelings. He's been a prat, but mostly he's been trying to be good.  _For her._

It doesn't even matter to him that she said the words first and not him. He's in shock. She has never been as beautiful as she is right now. He's sure of it. So when his hands stop shaking long enough for him to put the ring on her finger, he laughs and kisses her.

_She didn't say no._


	9. Alone

**9\. Alone**

Hermione is alone for the first time since-

_when exactly_

-since her last shower at Shell Cottage 48 hours ago, or really since that gruesome one hour after she left her childhood home and erased her life from her parents history, before she reached the warmth of the Burrow.

She realises it's the first time in almost a year when she has the luxury to take time to shower. She doesn't have to think about Horcruxes and Voldemort or her parents, or _death._  Though when she closes her eyes, all she sees is all the bodies aligned in the Great Hall and it's too much. She doesn't want to think. She desperately wills her mind to go blank.

She removes her layers of clothes carefully. Fire and curses have ripped the fabric and reached her skin. She rapidly catches sight of her body in the mirror before looking away.

She looks like a ghost, bruised and battered.

As soon as the water touches her skin, she hisses. Pain radiates from the opened wounds and burns all over her body. She welcomes it, allows the water to clean her body. Her soul.

She doesn't know how long she stays under the spray, but when finally she steps out, she feels numb.

Almost mechanically, she applies Dittany all over her skin. Some burns and wounds scar, criss crossing her body everywhere.

They may never fade.

In a foolish attempt, she massages more Dittany onto the scar on her arm - _Mudblood-_  but with no surprise, the word stay there marring her skin angrily.

Magic is darker than what she ever thought it could be the day she got her Hogwarts letter.

She feels older, aged beyond her years. She certainly doesn't feel like a nineteen years old.

She's exhausted.


	10. Morgue

**10\. Morgue**

The silence shakes him the most.

It's the first time he enters such a pristine white place.

Even the hospital room where Hermione gave birth to their children wasn't as white and clean. And there was definitively noise. He closes his eyes and remembers the vibrant yellow walls of the maternity ward, Hermione's face contorted in pain, Rose's screams as she came to life. Hugo hadn't start crying for a full minute and he recalls the Healers agitated state, but then his son had let out a soft, almost calm, cry and then he had been fine.

But he's not in the maternity ward today, and there's no baby being born.

Instead, today Ron holds his wife's hand as she says goodbye to her father.

It's not the last goodbye he knows that, because there will be a wake and funerals.

This is,  _the first goodbye, and s_ omehow it's the worst.

He feels Hermione's hand tighten around his, and all he can do is squeeze back because he doesn't know what to say.

He watches the still body of the man he once feared because he was his girlfriend's dad. He seems so frail now. Ron's throat constrict. He feels numbs.

Everything is so quiet.


	11. Sound

**11\. Sound**

Harry has barely passed the threshold of the house when he hears it.

_A moan._

Ron's name, in a high pitch voice.

He stays frozen for a minute, before going up to Ron's bedroom door.

Uncomfortably, he hears Ron's through the door and _he's groaning._

Harry closes his eyes, he doesn't want to hear this. Now that he's nearer he can also hear skin slapping against skin and he definitely  _doesn't want_  to hear this. There's no doubt in his mind as to what activities Ron is currently participating. The main issue in Harry's mind is that Hermione is supposed to be at Hogwarts right this moment, which means that Ron is with someone else. That renders him furious and he pounds his fist against the bedroom door.

"RON! It better be Hermione in there with you or I swear I'll rip your head and bollocks off."

Everything is suddenly quiet.

"It's me Harry, I-," he can almost hear Hermione's flushed face from across the door. "Ron stop!"

Hermione just  _moaned._

He's never going to be able to erase this from his memory.

"It's only Harry and I haven't seen you in a month!" he hears Ron says breathlessly. "Plus," he adds  _teasingly,_  "are you a witch or not?"

Harry slams his hand against the door, he's going to throw up or worse, pass out.

He hears Hermione whimpers  _Silencio_  and then it's all quiet.

 


	12. Smell

**12\. Smell**

She walks barefoot around the kitchen and turns the pot of coffee on. She's going to need it tonight to catch up on the classes she missed today. Not that she regrets it.

She hums happily, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she recalls Ron's hands on her. She shivers pleasantly and begins to fix them dinner. She'll have to make a cake for later as well.

She doesn't hear Harry enter the kitchen.

"Smells good!"

She turns around and vividly remembers Harry knocking on the door and interrupting Ron and her earlier, right when she was about to-… She turns a deep shade of red and strenuously tries to stay composed.

"Erhm-  _thanks!_ ," it's hard not to stutter, "Ron is in the shower he'll be down in a minute."

"Is that Ron's shirt?"

She wants to rip Harry's smirk off his face.

"So what did you say to McGonagall so you could slip out of Hogwarts to shag your boyfriend?" he asks teasingly.

For a minute she stays still and just stares at him.

But that's all it takes for her to snap out of it. Harry may be The Boy Who Lived, but if he's going to make crude comments about her love life, she will end him.

She can see Harry recognising his mistake as his smirk disappear from his face. He gulps uneasily and she feels powerful.

He is  _scared._

_Good._

"I just told her that it was Ron's birthday and that I wanted to see him," she says nonchalantly. "She isn't cold hearted you know. As for shagging my boyfriend as you phrased so nicely, do you really want to know what happened in there-"

" _No!_ " he raises his hand in the air in defeat, "no no, thank you. I don't."

"I thought so," she nods pleasingly.

They stare at each other and burst out laughing.

"Honestly, I'm happy for you guys really but please next time try to remember the silencing charm. I'll have nightmares after what I heard today."

"Do I smell bacon?"

Of course that's when Ron decides to make an entrance in the kitchen as well. She rolls her eyes.

Before she has time to say anything though, Ron closes the distance between them, grabs her strongly and smashes his lips against hers. He smells like lime soap and  _him._  It makes her head spin and she suddenly finds it hard to stand on her legs. Her hands find his shoulders as he deepen their kiss.

"We're going to have to set some ground rules," she hears Harry mumble as Ron's hand travel lower down her back.

 


	13. Sight

**13\. Sight**

Ron is beyond exhausted.

George had him cleaning up the shop in every possible nook and cranny all morning. Mercifully though, his brother gave him the afternoon off, it is his birthday after all.

He can already picture his afternoon, he'll nap for hours, and then he'll pay his mum a visit. She'll have his favourite food on the table. He can picture her roasted beef and chocolate trifle, he salivates at the mere thought. Delicious.

Yes, he'll do that. That sounds like a plan.

And it'll keep his mind busy so he won't think of Hermione.

He misses her. More than he could have ever imagine missing her. He doesn't know how it's possible. They've been apart for longer before. But they are different now. He wants to bicker with her, make her flush with a simple grin, smell the mix of vanilla and sweat on her skin, and feel her hair under his fingertips.

_One month._

He hasn't seen her in one month.

He craves her more than food. He's such a prat.

Maybe he'll take a shower first. A cold one. Frustration courses through his body as he enters his bedroom. He carelessly removes his dirty t-shirt and head towards his dresser to grab a clean pair of pants.

"Please don't mind me and keep removing your clothes."

He turns around so fast he almost knocks his foot against the dresser.

_Hermione._

He forgets to breathe.

His _girlfriend i_ s sitting,  _on his bed,_  wearing jeans and one of  _his_  shirt.

This is the best birthday ever. Nevermind the shower, nap, roasted beef or chocolate trifle. Nothing can top Hermione looking at him with a smug grin on her face.

"You're going to catch a fly if you keep your mouth open like that."

Oh god he missed her.

He jumps on the bed next to her and clings her body to his as she laughs.

"You're really here?" he asks, too afraid that he'll wake up from the best of dreams.

"Happy birthday," she whispers against his mouth.

He's not so tired anymore.


	14. Taste

**14\. Taste**

He blows his candles and kisses her, his mouth already full of chocolate cake.

Harry rolls his eyes and looks away as he mumbles once more something about rules.

"Are you ever going to look me in the eyes?" Hermione asks Harry annoyingly.

"It's bad enough that I...  _heard_ , what I heard… I'm trying not to picture it. And this, right now," he gestures toward them, entwined and sharing a chair, "is  _not_  helping."

"Honestly Harry, you act as if you've never had sex before," Hermione sighs shifting uncomfortably in his laps as she takes another scoop of ice cream. It's the first time Ron heard her say that word in front of anyone else but him. He's in awe.

Harry is not. And he turns toward Ron, a slight unease to his voice.

"What have you done to my sister?"

"Nothing that you haven't done to mine!" And he tries to push the thought of Harry and Ginny and sex, far far away to the back of his mind, but he can't. "Ginny is seventeen!"

"Yes and of age! What were you doing when you were seventeen?"

"Saving your sorry ass," Ron snorts.

Harry looks at Ron in shock and then burst out laughing, Ron follows instantly. It feels good to laugh about this. Ron hears Hermione sniffles and turns her face towards him.

"Are you crying?"

"No!"

"You are!"

"I just miss you okay?" she finally elaborates, choking back a sob. "Both of you! Hogwarts isn't the same without you two to fuss about."

Harry stands to hug her and she falls into his arms easily.

"Oh come, you have your books and N.E.W.T.s to think about, you're better off without us to look after," Harry tells her comfortingly.

Ron grabs her hand and she looks at him over Harry's shoulder, eyes shining with tears. It dawns on him how far they've come in just a year.

A year ago, he didn't had cake, they were stuck in the middle of the forest and she wasn't talking to him. Or almost not talking to him. She did read him his favourite childhood story, a small offering of ceasefire in the middle of anger and hurt, for his birthday.

"I should go," she states reluctantly.

He doesn't want her to leave. Ever.

Harry kisses her temple and quits the room. Ron opens his arms and buries his nose in her hair as soon as she hugs her body to his.

"And you should go see your mum," she whispers against his heart.

"It's night already, she won't have waited for me."

"Give her some credit, it's your birthday and she didn't know where you were last year. She'll want to see you today. Go."

"When will I see you again?"

"There's a Quidditch game, Ravenclaw against Gryffindor, in three weeks. Come and watch your sister play." She kisses him and pushes him into the chimney hearth with a sad smile.

He can still taste the mix of vanilla ice cream, chocolate cake and something her, when he arrives at the Burrow.

He wants to kiss her every day.

 


	15. Touch

**15\. Touch**

He kisses the small burn scar on her right hip.

"That tickles," she laughs, squirming underneath his hands.

His lips travels higher, to the hollow of her breasts, and she stops laughing. She stares at him out-of-breath, and he looks back at her with so much love, she'd do whatever he'd ask her.

They move against each other effortlessly, like she never thought it would have been possible after their first few tries last year.

She holds him closer, her hands weaving through his hair. He grunts her name against her lips in reply.

He goes faster, harder, and her body begins to tingle all over. She is so close.

_"RON! It better be Hermione in there with you or I swear I'll rip your head and bollocks off."_

_Harry!_

She's completely mortified.

She lets herself panic for a mere minute. Then - she doesn't know _how -_  she finds her voice and replies.

"It's me Harry, I-"

Ron moves agonisingly slowly inside her, and it feels  _so good,_  but Harry is still behind the door and this can't be happening.

"Ron stop!" she says in a strangled moan she wishes had been more hidden.

But he doesn't and she bites her lips so she doesn't let any more sound slip out.

"It's only Harry and I haven't seen you in a month!" Ron breathes against her collarbone. She wants to slap him for focusing more on their lovemaking than Harry _hearing_  them.

But then, she is reminded why she loves him so much. He is brilliant.

"Plus, are you a witch or not?"

He is positively smug as he says it, and  _he keeps moving inside her!_

With some kind of miracle, she locates her wand in seconds and the charm is uttered instantly.

She hopes it worked, because Ron snakes one hand under her spine and the other find her nipple.

She comes undone.


	16. Nightmares

**16\. Nightmares**

Hermione asks Fleur for wool and knitting needles.

Their days are spent figuring out an impossible plan. Her nights, knitting.

She can't sleep.

During their first week at Shell Cottage, she tried to fight the nightmares and fall asleep. But she got exhausted of pushing them away and began dreading dark.

She craves for the relief sleep once brought.

Every time she closes her eyes at night, she sees  _hers_. And she feels the dagger digging deeply into her arm as if Bellatrix is still carving into it. She can still sense  _Crucios_  course through her body - it hasn't really stopped aching - and the fear that invaded her brain. What if she had broke and said  _everything_. She almost did.

So she knits.

She waits for Luna to fall asleep. And as she treads the yarn under the light of a bluebell flame, she clings to the memory of a warm bed and bedtime stories ushered between the pages of a book that made the idea of falling asleep once soothing.

After two days, she's made two hats and a scarf.

At dawn she walks up to Dobby's grave to lay her work on his tombstone, so he'll stay warm. She is surprised to find Ron sitting in the sand, staring at the grave. He looks at her, eyes too bright, as she sits next to him.

"How did it got to this point?" he asks, a hint of despair in his trembling voice.

She can't answer, her throat constricts.

"What's this?" he nods toward the wool in her hands.

"Hats and a scarf."

"Did you make those?"

He seems surprised. She nods.

"When the heck did you find time to knit? I barely have time to  _think_  about anything else than Gringotts these days!"

"I-," she debates telling him, then she figures that it doesn't really matter, "I can't sleep."

His eyes grow slightly wider and she ears the question he's not asking.

"Nightmares," she shrugs as she looks away to avoid his stare.

She doesn't want to see pity in his eyes.


	17. Lunch

**17\. Lunch**

He celebrates Fred and George's departure for Hogwarts with a candy bar he saved up for the occasion. He kept the sugary sweet in a shoebox under his bed ever since the twins got their letter. He's not exactly sure what it is - there's marshmallow and minty chocolate, - but it's a candy, it's edible and it's his.

As he relishes on his sweet, he foresees the wondrous year ahead of him.

It's going to be glorious. Just him and Ginny home, no one to play tricks on him or tease him endlessly. He will actually be able to talk to dad without being interrupted, or take another serving of mum's delicious food first!

He's the oldest in the house now, he gets to call the shots.  _Brilliant!_

"Ron! I need you to degnome the garden!"

Oh well, he gets to call  _almost_  all the shots then.

As he drags his feet past his mum in the kitchen, he sees her fret over pots and enchanted knifes to prepare lunch. She is always in charge, he is a fool to think otherwise. He sighs as he pushes the back door toward the garden, he had forgotten he still had his chores to do.

"Also grab the fresh eggs on your way back," she calls from the window, "Fred and George forgot to do it this morning."

He didn't thought he'd have to do his brothers as well.

 


	18. Night

**18\. Night**

He feels her toss and turn in the bed behind him.

She's been doing that a lot lately, and he's trying to be  _patient._

But she begins to huff and puff as well and it's too hard to ignore.

"Hermione," he says softly as he turns toward her. Then he asks something he fears he's going to regret, "what's wrong?"

She faces him and he snakes his hand underneath her camisole to caress her burgeoning stomach.

"This!" she cries frustratingly pointing down to his hand on her belly.

"What? The baby?"

"Yes! I mean no!" He can almost sense the hormones raging inside her, "I can't sleep on my stomach. It's gotten too big. And I can't sleep on my back either because it's not supposed to be good."

She's crying now and babbling more nonsense about sleeping positions. Again, he is trying to remember to take a deep breath and be understanding, because she's carrying his child, and that thought alone is enough to make his heart implode.

"So sleep on your side."

_Uh-oh._

If she had her wand, she'd have hexed him judging by the look she throwing him.

It seemed like a simple and logical solution, a sensible one that she would have normally appreciated from him, but he's finding out every day how the pregnancy can play with her mood and reactions.

"Hear me out before throwing a curse at me okay?" She must have sensed the despair in his voice, because she only nods slowly.

He tells her to lean on him and she does it, sniffling and drying her tears with the back of her hand.

She lays her head on his shoulder, their legs intertwine and she snakes her hand loosely on his right hip.

"Better?"

Hermione is quiet for a minute, and he is pretty sure she's crying again.

"Much. Thank you," she croaks as he caresses her hair and lays a kiss on her forehead.

Hermione stomach rests comfortably against his side and he thinks he just felt his daughter kick against his ribcage.

As he lays wide awake on his back, Hermione's breathing now even and deep as she succumbed to much needed sleep, he feels his heart racing.

This is his life now.

He'll be a dad in a few month, and he finds himself constantly walking a fine line between overjoyed thrill and complete terror.

_It'll be okay. Breathe._


	19. Celebration

**19\. Celebration**

They gather at the Burrow.

Because this is what they do now.

It's a strange tradition that they have. She can't really remember which year they started it really, just that one day they all decided that they'll honour the people who lost their lives in the battle by reuniting at Ron's childhood home.

It's never nothing big. Just the Weasleys coming together and sharing dinner.

This year though, Hermione pays more attention to her nieces and nephews running around the orchard. They look so innocent and carefree, oblivious to how hard people fought for their future.

Rose snores softly in her arms.

"Everything's alright?" Ron asks her as he circles his arm around her hip tenderly.

She nods absentmindedly.

She reflects the losses of the war with a newfound understanding.

She's a mother now, and if anything happened to her daughter she'd turn the world upside down and curse anyone that'd come in her way. Her eyes fall on Molly, scolding George because he's making fun of Percy, as usual. Hermione detects a hint of sadness on her mother-in-law's face. She knows she's thinking about Fred. She must always do. Sadly, being around George makes it harder.

Sometimes she forgets. She doesn't remember the horror of the battle, the solitude of the hunt, the burns of the Cruciatus or the lives that were taken. She gets caught up in her daily life, which has escalated wildly into chaos since Rose's birth.

The oblivion never last though.

They all knew what they were getting into.

Hell, she didn't even think she'd make it out alive.

She squeezes Ron's hand on her hip as she watches Teddy laugh with Fleur. She sees a beautiful mix of Lupin and Tonk in him. Tonk never really got to be a mother. It suddenly breaks Hermione's heart.

She holds Rose tighter against her chest. The anniversary of the battle is harder to celebrate this year.


	20. Lust

**20\. Lust**

They are snogging on her parents couch.

In Australia.

Barely a week after they found them.

A few weeks ago she was fighting for her life on the burning grounds of her school. And now she's kissing the boy she's been in love with for longer that she cares to admit.

Everything is a bit overwhelming.

Ron's hand slides higher on her tight, getting closer to-

"We need to stop," she whispers detaching her lips from his regretfully.

He goes on and hovers his lips against her neck. Deposing light kisses on her skin in ways that makes her shiver all over.

She moans and pushes him away.

"We can't."

Ron sighs frustratingly and sprawl back onto the couch cushions, putting distance between them.

She hates it.

"Ron," she says softly as she grabs his hand. He doesn't pushes her away. "We can't have sex on my parents couch."

"It's been days since I've touched you."

He makes her blush, he sees it and starts grinning in a way that makes her want to forget where she is.

"Last time was better right?" He asks a bit unsure.

They're still very new at this.

"It was," she tells him dreamily.

"Your room then?" He tries hopefully.

"They'll hear us."

"Well, you're a witch, use a silencing charm."

He's adorable as he says that. But she remembers that magic is what tears her apart from her parents and she knows it won't be a good idea.

"I don't want to use magic around my parents. Every time I do I feel like I'm betraying them."

She doesn't say is that it didn't start the day she performed a memory charm on them, but much earlier. She doesn't recall a time she hasn't felt that way. Even when she was eleven and just received her Hogwarts letter.

"Now more than any time before..."

He's quiet for a while. She doesn't know if it's because he's realising that their sex life is now on hold barely after it jut begun or if he's understanding more her ordeal.

"They'll forgive you."

She wants to believe him.

"And when they do, we'll shag in your bedroom in celebration."

He's grinning so widely now she isn't sure she wants to smack him or snog him senseless.

"And when that day come, I'll let you cast the silencing charm."

She smacks him.

 


	21. First

**21\. First**

Limitless

That's the word that gets stuck in her throat when she first sets foot in the library.

The ceilings are high and the light soft. She discovers shelves after shelves of books she's mostly never heard of. It's almost  _too much._

She lets her fingers run over the worn out leather bound books and her mind wanders off with the infinite number of words enclosed within the walls of the Hogwarts library. She can almost picture the magical stories she's never heard of, the charms and potions she's yet to learn. She wants to forget everything else and stay here forever.

Knowledge is limitless.


	22. Bittersweet

**22\. Bittersweet**

After they bring her parents back, before Hermione goes back to Hogwarts and while he is helping his brother to reopen the shop, they go on a vacation together.

Ron, Harry and her.

_The Golden trio._

Their families don't understand why, after a year on the road together, they want to get away again so soon.

Alone and together.

Ginny protests, the sting of Harry's almost permanent sacrifice too recent still. But they hold strong, like the forceful trio they've always been. The Chosen one, the knight and the brightest witch of their age.

Truth is that they haven't had time together,  _in years,_  when it was just about the three of them. They were teenagers fighting a war they didn't ask for but wouldn't turn their back on. They were _children_ , they still are.

With the funerals, the search of her parents, the rebuilding a world destroyed by war… Harry decided that they needed a little holiday together, just the three of them, just for a couple of days. It didn't take too much convincing to make it happen.

They Apparate on the outskirts of Brighton and plant the tent Bill lent them. It's smaller than Perkin's tent. She's somehow relieved that they lost the roughened up tent that held their fears and hopes for a year. She recalls the days when she thought she'd die unnoticed and forgotten by all, the days when she thought they could hide forever and forget about the war, the day Ron left…

A sharp pang of pain course through her and she closes her eyes and tries to chase the memory away.

"We've had our worst memories this past year. We need to make new ones. Happy ones." Harry says almost reverently. They're all quiet, throats too tight and eyes bright with tears.

Then Harry smirks and she's pretty sure she wants to smack it off his face, "Two rules: no snogging and no shagging."

She blushes and catches Ron's red face, they're both thinking of another time in another tent, not so long ago.

"Seriously guys!" Harry moans in complaint, "honestly, I'm glad for the two of you but I think I may be regretting the time you used to fight all the tim-"

"We didn't fight!"

"She's a handful mate."

They both retort at the same time.

Harry holds his breath, a reaction all too familiar to go unnoticed before Hermione turns sharply toward Ron.

"What did you just say?"

"You're...erhm… delightful?" he tries, looking at her half apologetically.

"You're unbelievable." She storms away inside the tent.

"What were you saying mate?" She hears Ron whisper.

"Nevermind," Harry mumbles as Ron follows her footsteps and enters the tent, "I should have let Ginny come."


	23. Advice

**23\. Advice**

Ron watches the Burrow from afar, nostalgia of his childhood summers hitting him with a force he didn't expect.

The sun is setting and the air is warm as he gazes over the yellow burnt grass patches that are all over the land. He doesn't know if it's because he has so many conflicting thoughts and emotions at the moment, but he suddenly feels the urge to run down the hill barefoot, arms open and forget about thinking.

He sees a flicker of light in the shed, and knows he has come to the right place.

When he enters, his father is disassembling an iPhone it seems, and it makes Ron smiles. His father never really stopped being fond of Muggle technology. He still asks Hermione and the kids a million questions every time he sees them.

_Hermione._

Ron is brought back to the purpose of his visit.

"Hi dad."

"Ron! Good you're here, I've been trying to figure out what the purpose of this thing is."

Ron shifts his weight from one foot to another, he is suddenly nervous. What if his dad doesn't understand? What if he doesn't have an answer?

"It's a phone, but it also does all sorts of-"

"A phone! But where are the buttons?"

"It's a touchscreen."

His father looks perplexed, but then something shift in his eyes. He looks taken back, like he just realised something.

"What are you doing here at this time of day son?"

Ron sighs, he may as well take the advice he's came to look for, whether it is good or bad.

He tries to collect his thoughts first. Ron has tried to find a way to express his worries for a while now, but words were never really his thing. He's gotten better at it, much better, but he still struggles. His father stares at him patiently, trying to hide his worry.

"I don't know how to say this."

"Start at the beginning."

"Okay," Ron takes a deep breath. "When Ginny was the last one to go to Hogwarts, how was it for you and mum?"

"Well, we didn't had much time to dwell on it, if you can recall, the Wizarding World was a bit of a mess. Ginny's first year didn't really end the best of ways."

Ron lets out a frustrated cry. "Yeah, I know I remember. That's not what I'm talking about. I mean, how was it at the house, with just you and mum, and no kids around?"

And just like that, his father figures out the heart of his problem.

"Are you worried about you and Hermione once both Rose and Hugo have gone off to Hogwarts?"

Ron shrugs his shoulders, suddenly unable to look into his father's eyes. His throat is dry but he doesn't realise it until he replies and his voice is hoarse. "Well, Hugo is off for his first year in a couple of month. What then? I mean, the last few years have been rough," his father gives him a look he knows too well. "You know they have. It's always been a bit insane between us." He pauses, scratching his head uncomfortably. "Since we've had the kids, our insanely  _brilliant_  kids, it's really been more about them than about us."

Ron laughs absentmindedly, trying to recall the last time Hermione and him had simply gone out to dinner, just the two of them.

He can't remember.

"Have you talked to Hermione about it?"

His dad could have made a comment about how hard it was to manage seven kids and two wars, but he didn't, and it hits Ron how humble his father is. Tears fill his eyes and he angrily wants to push them back inside. He is a mess.

"She's been busy, you know. Her work is very demanding, what she's doing is important to her and the greater good. We  _all_  know that. It's just..." He sounds bitter, and he doesn't want to be, because he is  _so proud_  of her. But there's a part of him that hates her job.

They've been fighting a lot lately -more than usual- and he's been afraid of what the house will be like once it'll just be the two of them.

_Will they be strangers?_

"You and Hermione love each other," his father assures him as he lays a hand on his shoulder, forcing Ron to look at him.

"I know!" Ron half cries, "but what if this is too much for us?"

His father breathes deeply and gestures for Ron to sit on an armchair in the corner of the room. He then proceeds to turn the kettle on and prepare tea for the two of them. As he does so, they both remain silent. Ron lost in his own thoughts, and Arthur trying to gather his.

"Your mother hated it," his father finally tells him as he hands Ron his tea. "I guess you're more like her than you'd thought. She disliked the silence more than anything. She'd fuss around the house and pick up a fight with me as soon as I got home. It wasn't pretty. And I won't lie to you, there's time I thought that maybe we wouldn't make it."

Ron almost chokes on his tea.

"You and mum?"

His father nods. "We'd known each other nearly all our lives and life evolved around you kids for so long that once you were all gone, we had to figure out each other again. Because you change. People change."

"What did you do?"

"One day I watched her hum one of those Celestina Warbeck songs that she likes as she was knitting and I fell in love with her all over again."

Ron nods slightly. His mind wander to a few days earlier, when he caught Hermione reading the journal at breakfast and the light caught her hair perfectly, he had felt his heart race in his chest at the sight.

"I don't really know how to explain it," his father continues. "But I do know Hermione and you have been through a lot, more than most people have. It's a strength. Remember it."

They both turn quiet as they finish their teas. Ron attempts to collect his thoughts.

He remembers that he had hated her, when they first met. He then recalls their fourth year and how he couldn't tell jealousy and anger apart. He closes his eyes and lowers his head between his hands. The Horcruxes hunt is one of his worst memories, the constant fear; the dark thoughts the locket brought; the resentment and hatred he felt the day he left; Hermione's screams as Bellatrix tortured her. It still gives him cold sweat.

His father is right, they've been through a lot. Good and bad. He pictures Hermione at the end of her seventh year, wearing the biggest smile and the pride he felt surge in his heart when he had seen her that day. Without warning, he is invaded by more vivid images of good things they've shared. Milestones and insignificant Sundays spent in bed on a rainy day. It's almost too much.

He needs to talk to her. And figure this out. What they have is too special to throw it all away.

His tea has gone cold but he doesn't care. Ron bolts up, hugs his father and thanks him.

"One more thing son," his father adds, amusement dancing in his eyes, as Ron passes the door of the shed. "Perks of having the kids away, you have the house to yourselves and you don't need a silencing charm."

 


	24. Compliment

**24\. Compliment**

"That was a really good idea. To use the Felix Felicis so Harry can finally know more about Slughorn's memory," she says a bit dazed.

"You say that as if I never have good ideas," he replies accusingly.

"That's -that's not how I meant-"

"I know exactly what you meant," he sulks.

They walk the remaining distance to the meeting point for their Apparition test in awkward silence. Hermione feels suddenly flustered. She doesn't know if it's because she's anxious she won't pass, or if it's Ron's attitude towards her.

They wait for their names to be called in alphabetical order. She'll be before him, and she feels the need to clear things out with him.

"It was a compliment," she blurts out to him. His incredulous stare tells her he doesn't know what she's talking about. "When I said it was a good idea. I meant it as a compliment. You have good ideas." She doesn't know why it is so awkward to say it, maybe it's because she witnesses him turn a darker shade of red she's sure she's already spotting herself too. Or maybe because she wants him to realise she thinks highly of him. No matter what, he's still dumbfoundedly looking at her when they call her name.

She steps forward, turns around quickly to look at him one last time before taking her Apparition test. He smiles encouragingly and the butterflies invading her stomach are almost too much to bear.

She takes three deep breaths, closes her eyes and tries to focus.

_Destination, Determination and Deliberation._


	25. Shadows

**25\. Shadows**

She passes with an infuriating ease.

And Ron still rehashes her words when he's given a nudge in the arm.

"It's your turn!"

 _Ok_ , he tells himself as he steps forward,  _concentrate. What is it again?_

_Destination, Determination and …_

_Shit!_

He's forgotten the last one again. He's so nervous.

He looks around the room and his eyes finds her instantly. She smiles encouragingly and he feels like he could fly.

He closes his eyes and Apparates.

He almost pass.

"You almost did it!" Hermione tells him too excitedly before rambling on how unfair it was to fail him for just a half eyebrow.

Her attempt to cheer him up isn't enough to make him forget that he failed.

He's not good enough.

 


	26. Wedding

**26\. Wedding**

Ron is sitting on the edge of his bed, looking through the window when she Apparates.

He jumps startled, his eyes wide and mouth open.

"Wha-"

"I can't do this!" Hermione announces as she sits ungraciously by his side and puts her head in her hands.

"What? You mean… you mean the- the wedding?" he asks uncertainly, his voice shaking more than he'd admit later.

"No, of course not," she cries out in frustration.

"Then why are you crying," Ron lays his hand on her tight soothingly.

"Because I- I can't stand being away from you when you're within reaching distance! And I know I sound like a lovestruck teenager and I hate myself for it," her hands are flailing around her as she pours her thoughts out. "But, it's- it's hard enough not being able to sleep in the same bed as you when you're on a mission, I don't see the point of doing it to maintain some kind of illusion that we're following traditions. And- stop grinning like an idiot!"

He can be  _so_  infuriating.

"What?! You're cute!"

And she loves him  _so_  much.

"But it's true! Surely everyone knows we're already sleeping together so why do we have to sleep away from each other the night before our wedding. It's ridiculous and it's a stupid tradition. And we shouldn't have to do it to please our parents. Clearly, they're delusionals and-"

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," he kisses her and she breathes a sigh of relief, "and you're being slightly mental right now."

He didn't just say that.

She stands stepping away from the bed. Is he really thinking that she is being mental when she finds the  _whole situation_  mental. Not her. She doesn't understand why he can't see that.

"Don't look at me like that! I meant that in a good way!"

"How can you mean it in a good way?" She paces around the room,"You know what? This was a bad idea, I'll go back to my room. Maybe that's why the groom and the bride are not supposed to spend the night together before their wedding."

"What? Because the bride is mental?"

"I am NOT mental! You are being insensitive," she huffs and turns away trying, without success, to hold back tears of frustration.

She hears him get up, his hands circle her waist as he rests his head on top of her right shoulder. She closes her eyes and melts into his embrace. Old habits die hard.

"Do you really miss me in the bed when I'm away?" he whispers against her hear.

She nods.

"Look, I'm sorry. You're right, those traditions are stupid." Hermione turns in his arms and her eyes fall into his. Butterflies turn her stomach upside down instantly. Her frustration fades and she smiles as Ron brushes her tears away.

"Stay," he whispers before she kisses him.


	27. Waiting

**27\. Waiting**

Kingsley and her arrive at the Burrow and she already knows something is wrong.

She scans the people waiting for them and sees Harry, she breathes a sigh of relief. She looks for Ron. She doesn't understand, he should have been the first one back. Where is he?

Then Arthur announces that only Harry, Hagrid, George and him are back yet. She barely controls the moan of despair that escapes her lips.

 _He's alright, he's alright, he's alright._  She repeats the words in her head as an attempt to calm the painful twist in her stomach.

She's barely paying attention to the conversation, scanning the sky relentlessly, when she hears that George has been cursed.

_He's alright, he's alright, he's alright._

At some point, she's not sure when, almost everyone rushes inside to see George and she stays rooted on her spot outside. She needs to wait for him.

Hagrid and Lupin come stand next to her, and she's glad she doesn't have to be alone.

"They'll be alright," Hagrid whispers next to her, squeezing her shoulder in what he means to be reassuring but he can't control his force and she winces under his palm. "Sorry."

Her whole body is on alert. It's been since they left the Dursleys and were attacked immediately. She is trembling with worry and fear. Ron has to be alright, otherwise… she doesn't even want to think of what a mess everything will be if he doesn't come back.

Lupin must feel the tension emanating from her because he grabs her hand and tells her that Tonks and Ron are strong wizards, they'll be here any minute. She nods and fights back tears because she can't see the sky if she's crying.

_He's alright, he's alright, he's alright._

She doesn't realise she's been holding her breath until she sees their broom materialising above them and she begins to scream, relief flooding her.

She doesn't even think, she runs toward Ron as soon as he lands.

_He's alright._


	28. Peace

**28\. Peace**

They tell Harry she's pregnant together.

They enter his office hand in hand, pretending to pick him up for lunch. They radiate happiness and Harry notices it instantly. He knows them better than anyone else.

"What's going on?"

He watches them exchange a gleeful smile. Ron looks at a loss of words and Hermione is practically bouncing on her feet, his heart races in anticipation.

"I'm pregnant!"

His heart stops for a second.

"You are?" he almost chokes.

Hermione smiles tearfully and nods. Ron puts his arm around her shoulders and looks at him, eyes bright and happy.

"Also," Hermione continues out of breath. She sounds speechless even, and he has a hard time believing it. "We want you to be the godfather of the baby.  _Our_  baby." And she points towards her stomach.

That does it.

Harry can feel his throat tighten and tears prickle in his eyes. He doesn't even want to fight them. Even though he's already a father himself, he doesn't understand why the news of his best friends having a baby make him feel so emotional. He knew this was going to happen. He's seen the looks they shared when they are around James.

Still.

His best friends are having a baby.

And it's there, eight years after the war and all the messed up things they went through together then, that Harry realises they truly won.


	29. Murmur

**29\. Murmur**

There's times when he has to pinch himself.

It mostly happens when he's at the Burrow. His childhood home.

He watches his nieces and nephews play with  _his children_ , in the garden. And sometimes he thinks he sees himself play Quiddich with Ginny, George and  _Fred._  It still hurts.

That's when it all rush back to him. No matter how many years ago the war was. He was a teenager fighting a war. It's fucked up.

All the crazy things they did with Harry and Hermione are like a constant murmur at the back of his head.

And he realises how carefree the children play today, and he knows it was all worth it.

They often share a look then - Harry, Hermione and him. A silent conversation where they acknowledged how messed up everything was and how they'd do it all over again if it means they can live another Sunday family gathering at the Burrow.

After a minute, they raise their glasses in a quiet reverence and Hermione lays her head on his shoulder. He mentally pinches himself every time.


	30. Dawn

**30\. Dawn**

The sky is pale blue, stripes of soft pink rising from the horizon as Hermione watches the sunrise sitting on the steps that lead to their garden.

She has never felt more serene than at this moment. She can feel it bubble inside her, that overwhelming feeling of being exactly where she's meant to be.

She hears him before she sees him. Ron comes sit next to her and she tears her eyes away from the sky to look at him. She catches him gazing at the sleeping infant in her arms, wonder sprawled all over his face. Her heart soars.

She isn't sure how she finds the ability to speak when he looks at their daughter like that, and her voice trembles as she does.

"I didn't want to wake you up."

He looks up then, and his eyes, his beautiful sparkling blue eyes, wash her with so much love she's almost certain she'll implode.

He shrugs, and she's almost certain he's fighting back tears. They've been parents for 10 days now, and emotions have been flying high for both of them. Ever growing love, blind optimism and an ounce of dreadful despair have been the leading three.

This is real and this is a new stage in their lives, and they are taking together. She threads her fingers through his as he lays a kiss on her shoulder.

The sun rises higher and the sky now turns fiery orange, Hermione bends her head to stare at their daughter. She is glad, for all the good and bad things that happened to them, for they led them right to this instant.

 


	31. Burn

**31\. Burn**

He wants to catch his breath and tell her that he  _loves_ her.

But now is not the time, because they just jumped off a fucking dragon's back and his body is screaming in pain. He is covered in burns and as he applies essence of dittany  _everywhere_ , he notices Hermione flinch from the corner of his eyes. She is in a terrible shape, burns and cuts covering her body too. He is  _so close_  to take her hand here and then and just Disapparate her away. Away from the pain, from the war and the dreadful unknown they are living in.

He can read the panic in her eyes that she's trying to keep under control for Harry's sake. He knows, because he is feeling exactly the same way.

She's quick on her feet though, and he witnesses her lift her chin higher, a look of determination he knows all too well on her face, before she hands Harry and him pumpkin juice and a change of clothes.  _Brilliant._

Before he realises how it happened, they are  _laughing_. Because they just broke into Gringotts and how many times have that happened?

They sober up quickly though, because Voldemort  _knows_  and things just got ten thousand times more dangerous. They need to go to Hogwarts immediately and Hermione can't hide her panic now.

They don't have time to  _fucking plan_.

So as they get ready to Apparate, he grabs her hand tighter than ever before, trying to convey through this touch what his soul is yearning to scream.

He wants to catch his breath and tell her that he loves her, but there is a war to win first.


	32. Summer

**32\. Summer**

After the war, there were days when he worried that they were only together because of Harry, because of the war and what they went through. No one really knows what it was like, except for the three of them. It's something they will always share. But will it be enough in the long haul?

The memories he makes the summer after she finishes Hogwarts are amongst the best he'll ever have. He just knows it.

Life is messed up, yet life is good.

They take a ten days vacation, just the two of them. They don't go too far, just in a small town in the north of France, but it is exactly what they need after a year of figuring out how to be together while being apart.

He's not sure when it happened.

He just knows that as he looks at her, head in a book under the Normandy sun, he is transported to a few months back and the certainty that hit him then.

That is hitting him now.

He had found her in his room, dressed in his shirt and nose scrunched up as she wrote notes frenetically -  _I'm taking my N.E.W.T.s in two months Ron! -_  and he realised she would be  _it_. Maybe he's always known but was too scared to admit it, because who meet the love of their lives at eleven?

She looks up, sensing his gaze, and smiles. It's bright and carefree. As he feels the butterflies arise in his core, he decides that maybe Harry and the war brought them together, but it will make them stronger. Not tear them apart like he fears because of the scars they carry, inside out.

He takes her hand and kisses her, she responds with ardor dropping her book without second thoughts. He stops thinking.

She is  _it._


	33. Fall

**33\. Fall**

"So, when are you going to ask Hermione to marry you?" his mother asks nonchalantly and everyone fall silent.

Hermione chokes on her food and he's pretty sure he could disappear if he had his wand on him.

Stupid Harry for going through his 'to heck with waiting' and asking Ginny to marry him. And worse, his sister said yes. And even though they are going for a long engagement kind of thing, he thought it'll give his mum something to be obsessed about and leave Hermione and him out of her mind.

Apparently he thought wrong.

They are comfortable together, the sex is mind-blowing and they bicker a lot, but it's easier now. They are able to talk through an argument most of the time, instead of leaving the room fuming, but they are not even living together, and are nowhere near ready to get married. They are way too young, and despite the certainty that Hermione is  _the one_ , he doesn't want to rush into marriage. He loves her and he's pretty happy with where their relationship is currently. He believes she is too.

Ron catches her eyes across the dinner table, silently pleading her to get him out of his mother's inquiry, but Hermione just raises her eyebrows comically, letting him know that he has to do it by himself.

So he clears his throat and casually mention that he saw Angelina sneak in the shop earlier that week. George throws him a death stare that assures him he'll pay for this, but for now, his mother squeals with delight and fires hundredth of questions at his brother, forgetting completely about Hermione and him.

Ron smiles as he helps himself a second serving of chocolate pudding. He's about to scoop a too big piece in his mouth when he feels Hermione's foot lightly tap his shin. He raises his eyes, pudding momentarily forgotten and finds her smiling brightly back at him.

She winks.

_Nicely done._


	34. Winter

**34\. Winter**

"Do you want to get married?"

Ron just dragged her out of her parents house where she was enjoying a nice talk with an old neighbour. Her parents have taken the habit of hosting an annual Christmas party, inviting friends, colleagues and neighbours. It's always very crowded and even though she's glad for the break from the party, she can sense Ron's restlessness. He's been fidgety all evening and just snapped minutes ago, grabbing her hand and leading her to the garden. Now she knows why.

"Are you proposing?"

" _No!"_

"So  _what?"_ her voice raises.

"So I'm asking if you thought about it? 'Cause apparently everyone else has for us?" he gestures the house hastily and she understands his concerns. Everyone asked about their couple and she has to admit that even she got tired of the probing into their personal lives. She also remembers his mom inquiry over dinner a couple months prior.

She sighs. "Honestly?"

"Honestly…"

"I think we're too young. We still have things to work out. I think I love you. And I think that's more than enough for now… Don't you?" She whispers the last few words, too afraid of his reaction.

She can read the relief on his face, it makes her feel lighter too. He nods "I love you, I don't care about what the others said, I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page."

"We are."

"Good."

" _Good."_

"You're shivering." He grabs her hands and intertwine them with his to warm her up.

"I'm cold. In case you haven't noticed it's winter and we're having an argument in the middle of my parents garden."

"Argument? I thought we just settled on an agreement?"

"You make it sound so formal." she says half-offended.

He bends down to kiss her, she smiles against his lips.  _Good._


	35. Spring

**35\. Spring**

She's sick.

Hermione is lying on her couch, four layers of clothes and one comforter, as she reads some case files and he internally rolls his eyes.

Even miserable, she keeps working. It's adorable and a bit infuriating because she won't let herself rest and he worries.

He brings her a cup of tea, and she smiles weakly as she takes it. He removes the files from her grasp and tells her to lie down. She needs to sleep.

She must be beyond tired because she lets him without protesting.

And he knows, instantly. He wants this, for as long as she'll let him.

"Move in with me!" he blurts out.

She opens her eyes in surprise and there's a spark burning in her big brown eyes, and a hint of something else he can't quite read.

"You live with George." Her voice is hoarse, yet firm.

"Then I move in here. "

"Are you inviting yourself to live with me?"

"You're being difficult," he sighs frustratingly and she grins slowly, " _on purpose_."

She sticks her tongue out playfully and gets stuck in a coughing fit.

He brings her water, receiving a thankful nod in return.

"I'm serious."

She finishes her water and hands him back the glass, his hands tremble slightly as he puts it down on the coffee table.

"Let's live together."

She's about to reply, and he think she'll protest, that maybe they're not ready, they're too young. So he cuts her off before she can argue back.

"We're always together anyway. When was the last time we slept alone? It's always either here or at my place. I have a toothbrush here already and  _clean_  underwear. And I want to spent Sundays in bed, take care of you when you're sick," he points toward the empty glass and cup of tea. "I want to kiss you goodbye when we go to work in the morning and have all our stuff in the same place. I'm tired of you looking for the blouse you wanted to wear that day only to realise you didn't pack it."

She's about to speak and he cuts her off, again.

"And yes I know we are wizards, we can use magic and it takes us two seconds to go from one place to another, but... humor me."

"Are you done?" she asks matter of factly and she sounds more like herself than she has in the last three days so he can't be sure if it's a good thing or not.

"Erh... Yes..."

_What if-_

"Good. Because the answer is  _yes_. And it was already yes before you started nervously rambling. You're right, it's more practical and also, I like having you around."

He's speechless.

"Did you just say I was right?"

"Really? I just told you that yes I'll live with you, and that's what you choose to focus on?"

He kisses her.

"You'll get sick!" she pushes him back.

"I don't care," He kisses her again. "In sickness and in health."

"That's for wedding vows."

"You agreed to live with me, you may as well just agreed to marry me!"

"If this seriously how you're considering to propose, I-"

But he doesn't let her finish and captures her lips once more.


	36. Breakfast

**36\. Breakfast**

She turns eleven on a warm and cloudless night.

The clock in the kitchen strikes twelve and wakes her up.

She feels  _different_. She can't explain why. Hermione tries to shrug the feeling off and go back to sleep. She tosses and turns all night.

Nevertheless, breakfast is cheerful and she chats gleefully with her parents about their plans for that evening. They'll go out to dinner to celebrate her birthday. She gets to pick where.

She's helping herself with a serving of beans when the doorbell rings.

"Finish your breakfast honey, you'll be late to school," her mother kisses her forehead and heads to answer the door, vaguely commenting on the indecency of ringing someone's door that early in the day.

It's a woman. She overhears her talk to her mother. Hermione catches her name being brought up in the conversation and gets up to see who it is.

"Where are you going pumpkin?" her dad enquires without raising his nose up from the newspaper he is reading.

She doesn't reply. Something important is going on.

Her mother lets the woman enter their house and offers to bring her a cup of tea.

The woman is dressed in emerald green robes and has kind eyes. She smiles warmly when she notices Hermione observing her.

"Are you Hermione?"

She nods, suddenly at a loss of words. She can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm here to speak to  _you_."

_I'm here to change your life forever._

"I'm a teacher at a school called Hogwarts, have you heard of it?"

Hermione frowns and shakes her head. "Should I have?"

"No," and McGonagall says strongly, "it's not supposed to be known amongst Muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Non-magical people."

Her mother drops the tray she was holding, teacups break and tea get spill on the carpet. McGonagall takes her wand out and points it toward the ground.

_Reparo._

Hermione doesn't go to school that day.

 


	37. Closer

**37\. Closer**

She can see how much he's grown. How much innocence he lost.

Her torture, Dobby's death, the impending last leg of their journey, even more difficult than anything they've faced so far, and how can they do it? Voldemort is alive and on the rise, and they still have many horcruxes to destroy.

Ron is worried about her and he hovers from afar. When she pours herself tea, he appears in the kitchen doorway. When they meet with Harry to plan to break inside Gringotts, he sits closer to her. When she goes to bed, he stops by her and Luna's room to shyly say goodnight. Only to looking at her when he does.

She senses him, always near, always there, in case  _she'd need him._

He doesn't say it, but  _she knows._

She can see how he yearns to be near her and how his hand twitches craving to hold hers.

But he gives her space. Achingly so.

She understands why. He doesn't want to mess this - them - up when everything around them is fucked up.

But she almost lost him, she almost died. So when he sits next to her on the couch as she reads and researches, she stops for a minute and grabs his hand. Ron's head snaps towards her in surprise, mouth slightly open. She gives his hand a light squeeze, encouraging him to respond. When he does, caressing her hand gently, she can finally breathe. It only last a minute, and then they both have to let go as Harry comes to find them. They have a bank to break into and a dark lord to stop.

 _They_  will have to wait.


	38. Shiver

**38\. Shiver**

_He's fucked up._

There's no way Hermione will ever go out with him. Not with the stints he's been pulling the last few months with Lavender. And now…

He's about to fall asleep when he feels the golden necklace he left under his pillow that morning.

_My Sweatheart._

Yeah. He's fucked up. 'Cause instead of breaking one girl's heart - the last one he wanted to break - he's going to break two.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You're sleeping?"

"Yes, that's why I'm talking…" Harry sighs, "What is it?"

"Do you think she'll ever talk to me again?"

He doesn't really need to say who, he's pretty sure Harry knows.

"Er… I don't know mate. She seems pretty angry."

"I didn't really mean to…"

_What? Hurt her? Kiss another girl? Be jealous? Right..._

"Sure you did. It kinda got out of control though."

"Right," Ron swallows heavily. He's fucked up. He mentally slaps himself for the hundredth time.

"I suppose you'll have to break up with Lavender."  _If you ever want to make things right with Hermione._ Harry doesn't say it, but Ron hears it all the same.

"Yeah, I suppose so…"

Ron can feel a drop of cold sweat run down his back and shivers. He's already dreading a conversation he doesn't want to have. Maybe he can find a way to have her break up with him, that would lessen the blow wouldn't it. Maybe if he just stops talking to Lavender, maybe she'll get bored with him and that way she'll break up with him and he won't hurt her.

Yeah, he'll do that…


	39. Demons

 

He's in a foul mood every time it heavily rains.

Hermione figures it out before him. _Of course she does, she's brilliant. You're worthless._

__

It takes him longer to click. To connect his irritability with his guilt. To remember that it was pouring rain that day.

It's harder to shut down the lingering thoughts of the locket when the rain washes over him like it did then.

Ron yells at her. The weather has been miserable and rainy for five days. He's been edgy all week. So when he comes home, soaking wet because he had to Apparate outside the apartment because she puts too many protective enchantment up, _still,_ and he couldn't find his key, he loses it. He pounds the door until she opens, eyes bright and lips tights. Ready for a fight.

And they begin a shouting match. Him saying that they could tweak the enchantments so he can Apparate inside. Her telling him it would make the protection less effective and reminding him that he could have flooed in. He replying, almost growling, that the Floo wasn't working today and making it seem like it was her fault.

It goes on for a while. And then, he sees it. The spark of understanding flooding her. And she's stopped yelling. But he doesn't, because he's too riled up and seeks the release the fight is giving him. Maybe if he shouts his frustration out, maybe everything else he feels - and that confuses him,- maybe it'll all going to go away.

He's still shouting when she grabs his wrists, her chest rising up and down heavily, calmly. It takes him by such surprise that he falls silent. And when he looks at her, eyes full of love, apologetic _and patient_ , it finally clicks.

_It's water under the bridge. You're here now. It's all that matters._ That's what she tells him, he thinks, as she clings to him and her voice is muffled against his chest. Tears fall on his cheeks stoically. He doesn't understand how he didn't realised before. His head is spinning, thoughts spiralling down.

She's holding back tears, hands now cupping his cheeks as she brings him out of his dark state, back to the present. _We're here._ Hermione reminds him that these thoughts aren't who he is anymore. He _knows_ that, but the rain confuses him and it took him some time to be reminded.

But now he's aware of it. Now that he knows that the pouring rain takes him back to the day he left them in the forest, a day he wishes to forget, yet never will, it'll be easier to deal.

  
And eventually, one day, he'll stand under the rain as she announces him that she's pregnant, and no thoughts of the forest or the locket will cross his mind.


	40. History

 

She’s read countless books. But it never crossed her mind that her name will be added to the history books one day. That her children will learn about the war they fought and that they’ll read about what she’s done, alongside Ron, to help Harry defeat Voldemort.

Ron and her have discussed endlessly about the appropriate time to talk to the children about it. It’s not that they don’t want to tell them, it’s just that it’s in their past now and they’d rather focus on their present and think about the future.

It had been three years since the end of the war the first time she’d been contacted for an interview to share her side of the story so it could be added to the history books. She had refused then. Not able to face all of her demons still.

But when they asked her again, four years later, as a life was growing inside her womb, she’d thought of her legacy and how she wanted her _\- their -_ story to be accurate, she’d agreed.

Rose is eight when she first learns about the Muggle wars. She has a lot of questions. Asking if Grandpa David fought in a war, is one of the firsts. She knows enough to understand that her parents were not born for the Second World War but she doesn’t know about the Wizarding Wars yet. Hermione’s heart tugs in her chest when she realises that they’ll have to share their story with Rose soon. But she’s also proud, and reminds herself that they now live in a world more open-minded and safer, thanks to the fights of their past.

No, Grandpa didn’t fight in the war. But her Muggle great grandfather did. And Hermione asks her father to help answer Rose’s questions. The child decides to conduct an interview and write a report to bring to school the next week. She’s very thorough and focused during the whole process and Hermione wonders if her daughter will choose to be a journalist when she grows up. She mentally notes to ask her when they go home. Hermione thinks of Rita Skeeter, still infuriatingly writing, and hopes children like Rose will make better journalists one day.

That night though, as Ron is tucking Hugo in bed in the next room, Hermione announces to Rose that she’s going to tell her a story. Ron and her both agree that Hugo is too young to understand yet. He is still having nightmares about the scare Victoire and Teddy gave him when they hid under his bed. Telling Hugo that wars are real and that his parents came close to dying in one, would be the best way to have their son sleep in their bed for the next five years.

Hermione rehearses what she wanted to tell Rose. Tries to find the right words to explain to an eight year old the horror they lived when they were just children themselves.

"You’ve been learning about wars at school, right?" Rose nods seriously, her red locks shining the darkening room. "Well, while it’s true that your grandpa David didn’t fight in a war, your grandpa Arthur did. Twice. And so did we."

As if on cue, Ron enters the room, mouths ‘asleep’ to her, referring to Hugo, and comes and sits next to them. Their daughter sits up straighter, brown eyes wide. Speechless.

"We were just kids you see, but the wizarding world was becoming a dangerous place, filled with wrong ideals and injustice. A very dark wizard lead uprises. Your grandparents Weasley fought against him and his followers the first time. And they won. And the world was peaceful for eleven years. But then he came back, and _we_ had to fight…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed *David* Granger from MsBinns, because "Australia" is my headcanon.


	41. Crash

He’s shaking for days after they arrive at his brother’s, and not because he’s cold. They came so close of dying, she even more. And _fuck!_ Hermione was tortured and he knows he’ll forever wish that it had been him instead.

 

He observes her. Daily. Constantly. He tries to see if she’s different, if what happened to her changed her.

 

_If she’s damaged goods._

 

She surprises him, like always. Hermione is strong and brave and intelligent. And every time he looks at her and she catches him, he gets out of breath.

 

_How long until the words blurt out of his mouth?_

 

She’s quieter though, and that scares him.

 

After a few days of dancing around each other, he realises that he’s afraid she’ll fall apart at any moment. _He’s been waiting for it._ And so is she.  

 

Surely she’ll reach a breaking point, a final blow that will send her over the edge and he’ll lose her forever.

One morning, she makes tea and her hands shakes as she pours him a cup. He puts his hand above her and startles her. The cup explodes. _Wild magic._ He sees her clench her jaw, and her eyes narrow. She doesn’t seem surprised. It’s new to him and the words _damaged goods_ twirl in his head again.

 

“It’s- it’s okay,” he stutters, I’ll repair it.”

 

Ron lets go of her hand and with a flick of his wand the cup comes back to it’s initial state. _Will she?_

Hermione takes a deep breath next to him, closes her eyes, holding back tears. His heart is in his throat.

 

She raises the kettle up again, her movements steady, and he can’t hold back his admiration to her.  She blushes, he sees it. He smiles, thanking her. _For the tea, for being strong, for being alive._

 


	42. Almost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon on tumblr requested that I write something about Ron and Hermione's first time or their thoughts afterwards. This is what I came up with... Rated M for obvious reasons.

Their first time is far from perfect.

He caresses her softly at first, like she might break. She gets frustrated and grabs his hand to put it on her breast. And then she processes what she just did and explodes in a fit of giggles. He just looks at her blushing, mouth gaped and eyes wide. But then his thumb gently stroke her nipple and she’s not laughing anymore.

They kiss, it’s deep and passionate. They’ve learned to perfect it. He knows how to kiss her to get her begging for more. It’s almost infuriating, how quickly he’s learning about what makes her tick, when she spent years helping him with his homework and keeping his grades up. _Almost._

His hands lower down her body, trembling slightly as he removes her last piece of clothing. He’s as nervous as her.

It’s clumsy and they can’t seem to move in cohesion. Everything feels far different from what she imagined it would. She worried that it’d hurt, and it does, but not in the way she thought. The pain is more than bearable, and when she watches him, looking at her _so lovingly,_ her heart rate rises even more and she feels like she might implode right at this moment. She can’t possibly love him more than she does this instant.

 

His brow furrows and he tenses up above her, and suddenly it’s over. She didn’t get any release but she doesn’t think it matters. They have years to perfect it. And seeing how quickly they perfected kissing each other, she’s sure they’ll get it right soon.

  
She can’t wait.


	43. Butterflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble piece is dedicated to ImNotSpeakingToYou for our one year anniversary of harassing/knowing each other. *raises glass*

It wasn’t until a few days after, -after Marietta Edgecombe sold them to Umbridge,- that it hits her.

She performed a Patronus charm.

Ron, Harry and her are studying in the library. Easter holidays are coming soon and after that they’ll have to take their O.W.L.s.  Hermione is fully aware that the boys won’t study enough during the break, so she’s trying to squeeze in as much studying as possible before they part. For their sakes as much as hers.

She is reviewing the names of Jupiter’s moon, already imprinted in her memory since they first studied them three years ago, when her mind drifts back to the memory of the silvery flow of her Patronus.

An otter.

She wonders why.

Hermione remembers seeing them when she was little. Her parents had taken her to the zoo. She recalls few things from that visit: the popcorn she’d given to the giraffes, the snakes unfazed by the children tapping the glass between them, and the two sea otters holding hand as they were drifting sleepily on the water. They had seemed so serene.

She raises her eyes from her book to look at Ron, frowning over his -hers really- Transfiguration notes. He looks adorable and she smiles to herself.

And then it _clicks._

_Ottery St Catchpole._

It’s like a giant red flag just raised itself in her head.

_Ron’s hometown._

This _can’t be_ why her Patronus is an otter. Because **_he_** lives in _Ottery_ St Catchpole.

Hermione breath hitches as she inaudibly gasps. She can barely control her racing heart as she loses complete control of the butterflies invading her stomach. This is so obvious, why hasn’t she realised earlier. After all, the memory she used to conjure her Patronus was her first visit at the Burrow, and how Ron’s home had given her a renewed sense of belonging. She never told her parents. Before casting the spell, she’d taken a deep breath and recalled Molly engulfing her in warm hug as soon as she had arrived, and how everything had just been so marvelling. From the dishes washing themselves above the sink to the delicious smell of the freshly mowed grass in the garden.

She can’t explain why the Burrow had had such a strong effect on her. Hermione hadn’t thought possible that anywhere outside of Hogwarts would have made her feel that way.

It had felt _home,_ achingly so.

Hermione doesn’t realise she’s still looking at Ron, _and smiling like an idiot!,_ when he catches her off guards.

He always does.

“Have I got something on my face?” he asks her grumpily, and she thinks it’s cute.

_I’m in trouble._

The butterflies haven’t stopped since her epiphany, and she doesn’t trust her voice to reply. So Hermione just shakes her head and quickly puts her nose back into her book.

 

_“Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto are Jupiter’s Galilean moons...”_

__

_And you most definitely have more than just a crush on Ron Weasley._

 


	44. New Year

Hermione wakes up on the first day of a new year, the most hopeful day of all, and wants to give up.

After years and years of judgments, of crimes and battles, of anger and hurt;  she wishes for everything to be over.

They just keep accumulating defeats. Ron is gone, Harry’s wand is broken, she can’t figure out what the next Horcrux is, they can’t destroy the locket, her body aches all over and she’s constantly cold despite charming her blanket.

She doesn’t want to fight anymore.

And as she throws a glance in Harry’s direction on the other side of the tent, she guesses that he is feeling the same way. They haven’t spoken a word all day. Nothing. They both appear to have come to a silent agreement that today should be spent in self-pity and wallowing.

She realises they both need Ron back.

She somehow ends up daydreaming about kissing him at midnight on New Year’s Eve. She wonders how his lips taste like, and if he would kiss her back.

Her thoughts dangerously spiral down and all she thinks about is Ron. She misses him _so much_ , and she is so mad.

She pulls her blanket over her head and doesn’t try to fight back the tears rolling down her face. She doesn’t care if Harry notices.

She’s miserable. It’s the longest time they’ve been apart (or without hearing back from him) since she’s known him.

  
Nothing can possibly hurt as much as this does.


	45. Tease

Arthur catches them in the shed when she is pregnant with Rose.

 

They arrived a few minutes earlier and were supposed to head to the house but _someone_ seemed to be horny and had grabbed his hand, determinately leading him towards the shed.

 

"Not that I'm complaining you know, but what did I do?" Ron manages to say in between kisses and gasps of air.

 

She flushes even more, he groans at the sight.

 

"I- I don't know... After we Apparated I- I looked at you and y- you were out of breath and your hair was all over the place and I- I-" She's trying to catch her breath too, her chest rising fast under his gaze. Her hair is uncontrollable, cheeks red and he perfectly understands what happened. He grabs her hips and slams her body against his and she moans in his mouth in reply. He can feel the soft swell of her burgeoning stomach against him and his knees tremble under the overwhelming rush of love and pride washing through him.

 

He needs to feel more of her, to have her closer.

 

His lifts her up on the table and her legs wrap around his hips easily. His hands sneak under her dress as he hears the shed's door creak.

 

_Crap._

 

"Erhm. I- Sorry. Didn't mean to- I was looking for... Erhm-" Arthur stutters before becoming suddenly highly interested with the shed's ceiling.

 

Hermione buried her face in his neck as soon as she heard the door, meanwhile he's still staring at his father like a deer caught in headlights.

 

A very brightly red deer.

 

They're married for heavens sake. His wife is pregnant. It's not like his father thinks this baby came from magical apparition.

 

Finally after an awkward long silent minute, Hermione seems to be the most composed of the three of them, she lifts her head and clears her throat.

 

"Tell Molly we'll be there in a minute."

 

When they get inside, he's certain George is smirking and Ron's gaze instantly shifts towards his father. He is trying far too much not look at him and Hermione.

 

He sighs and looks at his brother. "You heard us Apparate didn't you?"

 

"I don't know what you're talking about Ronniekin," George replies a little too sincerely, mischief dancing in his eyes.

 

"You sure you're having a girl Hermione," he then asks, glancing at Hermione, all too amused still.

 

"Yes, why?" She frowns and Ron groans internally. He's not sure what his brother has under his sleeve but he's sure as hell Hermione won't like it.

 

"Well, it's just that pregnant women are usually, you know, _hornier,_ when they're expecting a boy."

 

And there it is.

 

 _"George!_ " Angelina and Molly tuts indignantly in unison. The older woman ends up also slapping a half-coughing half-laughing Arthur on the arm.

 

Harry looks like he always does in these situations, like he'd rather be somewhere else. And Ginny is giggling by his side.

 

Surprisingly, Hermione raises her chin up and sits calmly at the diner table. George wiggles his eyebrows towards them at the end of the table, and Ron isn't sure he understands what just happened.

 

That is until he catches sight of Hermione's wand under the table. She's always been the best at nonverbal spells. He smirks as he puts his hand on her knee under the table, giving her his approval. Not that she needs it.

 

George never learns. Never ever mess with Hermione. And since she's been pregnant, her magic has been a little more intense.

 

He glances at his wife, a small smile dancing on her lips. This diner has gotten way more interesting.


	46. Afternoon

She arrived three days ago, on a perfect, bright and sunny summer afternoon, with nothing else but a little beaded bag and tears she could barely hold back.

He opened the front door as soon as he heard her Apparate.

Next thing he knew, Hermione flew her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. It took him a few seconds to recover from her body flushed against his and her lips grazing his skin before he closed his arm strongly around her.

“Your parents?” Ron whispered softly.

“Safe,” she mumbled simply against his neck.

His right hand instinctively went up to her hair. He barely had a moment to commit the softness of her hair to his memory before his mum barged in from the kitchen. Instantly, Hermione pulled back from his embrace, smiling weakly and brushing her tears away.

But it’s now three days later and she still seems on the verge of crying whenever he looks at her when she thinks nobody is watching. He knows there’s nothing he can do to help her. His insides twist unpleasantly when he thinks about the lengths she went through to protect her parents. Everytime he looks at her, he feels his heart surge with pride. She’s so smart.

And impatient, he is reminded as she tuts his name, asking if he’s listening to her.

Obviously, he’s not.

She doesn’t even let him speak before she proceeds to engage in a long rant on how it is important to focus since they will be leaving on a who-knows-how-long journey soon and they will need to be fully prepared.

He nods seriously and grabs the nearest book, _Tricks and Charms for the prepared camper._

He frowns. “Are we going to camp?”

‘Who knows? Maybe,” she shrugs. “I’d like to have every possibility prepared so we don’t get caught up in details.”

They read for one more hour before he decides to call it a night and kick her out of his bedroom.

Reluctantly.

As he’s about to close the door behind her, she turns and calls his name, softly. He barely heard it.

“Yes?”

She looks at him with so much affection in her eyes - and a hint of something else he can’t quite place - that he can’t ignore it.

“Thank you. For being here.” She grabs his hand and suddenly there’s a lump the size of his fist in his throat.

“S’nothing,” Ron breathes as he attempts to to control his now racing heart.

“Good night.”

She gets on her toes and drops a kiss on his cheek, he swears his knees begin to shake.

“Night.” It takes all his strength not to yell her _I love you_ right this instant. Because really, what idiot tells a girl that he loves her after spending most of his afternoon reading next to her and a chaste goodnight kiss on his cheek.

  
She squeezes his hand and then she’s gone.


	47. Dusk

Safe.

His family is safe. Ron watches in half agony, half relief, Harry rush to the bathroom his body still shaking despite his attempts to hide it.

Ron frowns. “You think he’s alright in there?” he asks Hermione who is busying herself taking their sleeping bags out of her beaded handbag. She looks so pretty in the dimmed light, the pending dusk shining through dust particles around the room. His heart begins to race.

She sighs. “Probably not. But considering the situation I’d say we are all doing our best. We should try to have a good night of sleep tonight. We’ll need to start planning tomorrow.”

_Right._ The reality of their situation is slowly and unpleasantly sinking in. Ron feels sick.

“Let me help you,” he offers, smiling at her as he picks up her sleeping bag, laying it on the couch cushions.

“What are you doing?”

“I am helping you setting up our beds for tonight,” he replies.

“I can sleep on the floor,” she says, sounding slightly indignant.

He shrugs. “Yeah I know. Doesn’t mean you have to,” and without leaving her time to retort, he sets his sleeping bag on the ground next to hers.

She huffs, blushing, and Ron isn't sure if he really just heard her thank him or if it is just his wishful thinking. He doesn’t have too much time to think about it. She murmurs _toothbrush_ and _Harry,_ and then she is gone.

He wants more.

More of her, more of them. Just the two of them. It is nothing against Harry, it’s just that he wishes he could have Hermione to himself for a little longer. Maybe hold her hand, and tell her that he loves it when she frowns over a book, looking for an answer. That he fell in love with her when she began knitting hats, always ending up falling asleep on the common room couch. Or maybe it was after she tuts at his homework before helping him. He isn’t sure exactly when or how it happened, he just knows that now she’s more than just a friend to him.

So, now, in the middle of a grim house, surrounded by dusk, he wants more.

  
Maybe tonight, before they fall asleep, he’ll try to hold her hand.


	48. Dark

The sun is low on the horizon and the light inside the tent is getting darker. She conjures a couple of bluebells flames to light them up.

Hermione is still shaken up by the events of today at the Ministry.

_They almost caught them._

Ron got splinched because she had been distracted.

Then it would have been over. Everything would have been for nothing. She fights back frustrating tears, now is not the time to cry. They need to start planning. So she raises her head, swallows back the guilt of Ron’s injuries, and begins to read.

That night before joining her bunk, she goes to Ron’s and holds his hand. As his fingers close around hers, she blushes as she remembers that she almost kissed him earlier today. And in front of Harry no less!

She falls asleep with the lingering feel of his hand in hers.

But as the days go by, she can sense the tension raising inside the tent. She keeps thinking that something bad happened to her parents, that she failed, that Harry wants her with him only to pick up her brain, that Ron doesn’t love her. The metal of the necklace is cold against her chest when she puts it on, she shivers every time.

One evening, she suddenly, _finally,_ thinks of something. Something actually helpful. _They are making progress,_ _they can do this._ Adrenaline rushes inside her veins as she explains that the sword of Gryffindor infused with the Basilisk blood should be, _will be_ , strong enough to destroy horcruxes.

After that, everything goes too fast. The tent is a whirlwind of bitterness and rising anger.

Before she knows it, Ron’s gone.

  
That night, she cries under her blanket, trying to remember how his hand felt in hers.


	49. Bliss

She wakes up alone, his side of the bed barely lukewarm still.

 

It’s unusual of him to be up before her, but not unheard of so she can worry about it.

 

Hermione finds him in the kitchen. He’s reading the paper and drinking coffee. Ron even prepared a cup for her, sitting by the sink, waiting for her. But instead of grabbing it, she kisses his shoulder and reaches for his. She takes a quick sip before kissing him lightly on the cheek.

 

He smiles and greets her. She asks him about today’s news as she butters a toast. She slices it in two and hands him a half as he begins a long rant about the new head of the Aurors department.

 

Her feet pokes his calf softly under the breakfast table and he taps hers back tenderly, ranting still.

 

All day she can’t shake the feeling of darkness yearning to envelop her. She does her best to ignore it. Their day is blissfully quiet and domestic. They chat during breakfast, bicker gently as she washes the dishes, he acts like a starved puppy as they run errands. Later, they meet Ginny and Harry for drinks at the pub.

 

She only realises why today felt so gloomy as her head hits the pillow, right before she falls asleep.

 

Today was the anniversary of the day he left.

 

Hermione fights sleep and snugs her body against his.

 

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispers against his neck.

  
Ron kisses her forehead. “Me too,” his voice is hoarse.


	50. Hazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50!

Ron is six. He sits tall, in his father’s shed, on a stool he helped fix a few weeks earlier.

Arthur is trying to repair a television and Ron observes attentively him. He is chewing on a chocolate frog his dad handed him, half mumbling not to tell his mum about it.

Suddenly the television turns on and his dad beams. His smile is infectious. Both stare at the screen, mouths agape, it’s nothing but little black and white dots moving frizzly on the screen.

 

 _Snow,_ Hermione will tell him many years later.

 

For now, he doesn’t know what they are and find it curious that muggles would want to look at it for too long. It’s only been a few seconds and it makes him hazy.

His father turns off the dots, “better luck next time huh?” and ruffles Ron’s hair.

 

...

 

Ron is thirteen. And confused.

His best friend is coming to his house for the Quidditch World Cup and he tells his father about it in the damp air of the shed. Arthur is yet again, working on the television.

Ron hands him a piece of chocolate.

“I don’t understand what seems to be the problem son, Harry came over plenty hasn’t it? Why is it different?”

But Ron isn’t talking about Harry. And his father seems to realise it as soon as he’s finished talking.

_Oh._

He turns away from the television to face Ron, an hint of a smile on his lips and a knowing glint in his eyes.

Ron frowns, “What?”

Arthur shrugs, he taps the television a couple times, slightly amused, “when your mum and I-”

He doesn’t finish though, because the television turns on and it’s not snow anymore, but images dancing on the screen. They keep moving left and right and there is no sound even though Ron knows there’s supposed to be.

Almost as quickly as they appeared, the images fade and the screen turns black again. Arthur sighs, talking to himself about muggle technology and magic.

_“She’s here!”_ They hear Ginny scream towards the shed.

A small tremor runs through him as his heart quicken.

“You’ll figure it out,” his father offers, “I did.” He pushes Ron out towards the house.

 

...

 

Ron is nineteen. He kisses his girlfriend senselessly in the shadows of the shed.  

He pushes her against the stool he once climbed to feel taller. Hermione _hops_ on it, and he can barely catch his breath.

As he bends to capture her lips again, they hit the television sitting on the shelf next to them.

Ron doesn’t even notice, too enthralled by the woman in front of him slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

She is the best thing that happened to him.

 **  
**Hazily - he cannot _think_ when Hermione is lazily trailing her hands against his skin - he realises that he finally figured it out.


	51. Breeze

It's the end of June, night fell late that day and temperatures are still very high. They left the bedroom window open, trying to let the summer breeze come in and cool them down. It's a quiet night, yet both of them are restless.

They are lying in bed, her back melting into him, legs intertwined.

“Do you think things would have been different, if we had expressed our feelings earlier?”

He stops playing with her hair and frowns. He can't see her face and read her. He's gotten better at it over the years. “What do you mean?”

“Would _we_ be different?”

_Would we have gotten ourselves killed? Would I have modified my parents memory? Would you have left?_

There’s so many possibilities, so many questions and what ifs twirling in her head... She can’t make it stop.

“It would have saved us a lot of heartaches. And,” he lays a hesitant kiss against her shoulder, “...resentment.”

She moves her head so she can kiss the scars she left on his arm. Some sort of apology for the hurt she caused.

“But, do you think that our lives would have unfolded differently?” She links her hand in his, a voice barely a whisper.

“You mean, would I have left?” He asks openly. The memory almost doesn't ache anymore. Not when they're like this.

“No. Yes. I don’t know," she sighs, "not just that, but _everything!_ ”

He stays silent for a minute, releasing her hand and tracing the lines of her body. A slight shiver runs through her and he relishes at the sight of the skin of her arm rising in goosebumps. He wonders if it's him or the night breeze finally cooling her down.

“Does it matter though? We’re here now.”

  
Underneath his hand, now resting on her burgeoning stomach, he feels their daughter kick.


	52. Fear

He’s fully aware that if Voldemort lives, she’ll die.

He thought he knew what being scarred was, but if he admits it to himself, he’s only been scared, so scared that sheer terror washes him and he would do anything, _anything,_ to make it stop, a handful of times.

It should come as a surprise, but it really doesn’t, when it comes down to it, Hermione is always involved.

…

When he left, instantly knowing what a giant mistake he had made, he’d spend his days eaten by guilt and scared to death that something would happened to her. He wouldn’t had been able to live with himself if she had ended up getting hurt, or worse, and he refused to think about it, _killed._

Thankfully, when he gets back to them, she’s okay. Not great, but okay. She has bags under her eyes and lost too much weight, but she is alive and he is the one that hurt her the most. He promises himself that if he makes it out of the war alive, he’ll have a lifetime to make amends to her.

…

They get caught and are brought to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix decides that she will use Hermione as a toy and when they forces Ron and Harry down in the cellar, Ron is sure of one thing. He will get Hermione out of here if it’s the last thing he does. He trashes around the cellar, screaming and pounding the walls, anything to get to her. Nothing else exists and when Dobby shows up, he tries to breathe.

He has a way to get to her.

They land on the beach at his brother’s home, the one he spent weeks at burning himself with remorse. this time is different. She’s with him but barely. Hermione is still unconscious in his arms and he doesn’t look back towards Harry and Dobby before sprinting towards the house.

Mere minutes transform in forever as Fleur tends Hermione’s wounds. He throws up and comes back to find Hermione waking up under the potion Fleur is waving under her nose.

“Hi”, she croaks painfully.

He lands on his knees beside her and cries, burying his nose in her neck.

_You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive._

He only knows he is speaking out loud when he feels Hermione’s hands on his back, clutching his shirt.

…

Harry has gone to the forest to meet _fucking Voldemort_ , his brother is _dead_ and he doesn’t understand all the emotions flooding him. What he does know is that there’s a presence, Hermione, solid and warm, standing next to him and it is the only thing that keeps him grounded when the tears have dried and all he wants to do is go out and be reckless, killing as many Death Eaters as possible.

Then, he doesn’t know how it possibly could, but it does, and everything is worse.

Harry is dead, but then he’s alive and Ron swears he won’t leave Hermione out of his sights. But all hell breaks loose, he looks around and doesn’t know where she is.

He screams her name, throwing curses all around, fighting Death Eaters.

He finds her in the Great Hall, where most of the fighting ends up taking place. She is battling Bellatrix alongside Luna and sister and even though the odds are more in their favors at three against one, it’s also Bellatrix and he knows Hermione is fighting her with her stolen wand. He’s scared for all three of them and heads their way. Hell, he wants a piece of Bellatrix as well.

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Neville struggling against Greyback. He looks back at Hermione, Ginny and Luna, and swallows back his fear to go help Neville.

After that everything goes fast, they stun Greyback and he turns around to go against Bellatrix only to see her barely miss his sister with a killing curse. His blood boils in his veins but before he can act on it, his mother is battling the evil witch and kills her. The room falls silent and Harry appears. Instinctively, Ron moves towards his friend to help.

_I don’t want anyone else to try to help. It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me._

Ron stops in his tracks confused as Voldemort and Harry circle one another. He tries to understand what Harry is saying when he senses Hermione’s presence beside him. Her eyes light up in understanding at the scene unfolding in front of them and he scrutinises her face, cataloguing the cuts and bruises quickly before turning back to harry and Voldemort. Harry is saying that Draco is the true master of the Elder Wand and instantly his mind flash back to that fateful day at the manor. If he recalls, though his memories are troubled still, Harry had disarmed Draco. He clearly remembers Harry yelling at him to catch the wand he was throwing him as they escaped.

_If he remembers right, then it means…_

Ron’s heart races in his chest and understanding sinks in as Harry echoes his thoughts.

_This is it._

Voldemort falls under his own curse.

_They’ve won._

  
Ron grabs Hermione’s hand and swears to never let go.


	53. Sea

_Pregnant._

She is _pregnant._

Laughter and panic rise up in her chest. They want this, they have been trying for this, yet it had still all been whens and safely distant future.

_When they’ll have kids, they will move to a bigger house in the country. When they’ll have kids, they’ll have Friday diners at her parents, and Sunday brunches at his, their children playing with their nieces and nephews. When they’ll have kids, their first will be Harry’s godchild. They even talked about names. For a boy, the name has been chosen long ago. After they travelled across the world, broken by the war, searching for her family and finding themselves along the way with the help of a then stranger. They still haven’t found a girl’s name they both like._

Now that the future is here, that this is really happening, she finds herself out of breath, unable to process the new life growing in her womb. Her hand finds her stomach absentmindedly as a small laugh escapes her mouth.

When Ron gets home, she grabs his hand despite his protests about the rain and apparates them to the beach. He’s worried about the rain. She is not.

They land on a deserted beach. It’s a gloomy, windy and rainy October day. Ron is still complaining about the weather, but she is burning with excitement.

_This is a good idea, the best of all ideas._

There’s a sense of plenitude in her that she’s never had before. The sea always reminded her of their time in Shell Cottage during the war. Despite trying to make new memories since then, she’s never been able to fully shake it off. Until today.

When she turns to him, Ron is scrutinizing her, trying to understand what is happening. She holds back a laugh, happiness coursing throughout her whole being. Admiration dances in her eyes as she finds his, piercing blues against calm browns. She is _so in love with him._

__

“I’m pregnant,” she whispers, because she suddenly finds it impossible to speak.

She can barely contains herself as she sees understanding washing through him.

“Really?”

She nods, laughs, cries.

  
He kisses her, she shivers and his skin is all goosebumps. For a minute, she thinks it’s because of the rain, but as he deepens the kiss, his fingers brushing the scar of her forearm, she knows it’s something else.


	54. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this September 1st could very well be James Sirius Potter first year at Hogwarts. I came to this realization earlier today and decided to write something about it. I'm a few days early but I'm sure I'll be forgiven ;-)

Ron wakes up to his kids screaming with glee and an empty bed.

 

By the time he groggily walks into the kitchen, Rose and Hugo are excitedly chatting about Hogwarts and Hermione is well engrossed in the Daily Prophet.

 

He kisses his children on the head, as Hugo tells him all about the Hogwarts Express in thorough details. Ron nods absentmindedly as he kisses Hermione hello. Her lips still have traces of her morning coffee and something carnal wakes up deep inside him. He stops himself from deepening the kiss, unwillingly so, but Rose is starting to make sounds of disgusts at them. On any given day, he’d humor her, but today is a special day and he doesn’t want to be late. When he pulls back, Hermione gives him a look that he all know too well, her eyes saying “we’ll continue this later.”

 

Ron pours himself coffee, and sits down at the kitchen table, stealing a piece of bread from Hugo’s plate.

 

They chatter happily and Ron answers his children’s questions about Hogwarts and the train. Eventually Hermione joins in as he recalls his first train ride.

 

“I was sitting alone in a compartment and your uncle Harry showed up and sat with me. Then the Trolley lady came up and uncle Harry bought the whole trolley!”

 

“The whole trolley?” repeated Rose in wonder.

 

“That’s really not healthy,” mumbles Hermione.

 

“Where were you sitting mum?” enquires Hugo.

 

“Well, I put on my robes as soon as I boarded the train and as I came out of the bathroom Neville began screaming looking for his toad. I ended up asking your father and uncle if they had seen it and somehow stayed sitting with them for the rest of the train ride.”

 

“Wait,” Rose says, “does this mean that you and dad met on board of the train to Hogwarts?”

 

“Along with uncle Harry yes.”

 

“On your first year???”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wow that’s cool!”

 

…

 

They reach platform 9 ¾ early. They’ve been here before and every year since Teddy’s first year.

 

This time is different though, it’s their godson’s first year. It’s _Harry’s son first year_ , and the thought of it gives Ron chills and delighted excitement. It seems to him that years have passed by in the blink of an eye. He still remembers holding James for the first time. He cried that day for more reasons that he could understand.

 

Out of all his nieces and nephews, Ron always had a soft spot for James, not that he’d tell any of the others that. But the boy reminds him so much of Harry during their early years at Hogwarts, all untaming hair and lanky arms. His stubbornness is all Ginny though.

 

Hugo is the first one to spot them as they make their way across the crowd.

 

When Ron gets to James, seeing him fidgeting as Harry ruffles his hair, his chest fills with pride.

 

He then takes the boy aside, and hiding from the rest of the group, Ron hands him a small bag full of Galleons and tells him, “if you meet a kid that doesn’t seem like they have much, buy them some candy will you?”

 

Ron turns around and his eyes catch Harry’s looking at them, as if he heard him.

 

“I also put some of the newest products from the shop inside, don’t tell your parents,” he winks before pushing James back towards the group.

 

Later, when goodbyes have been bid, tears shed and the train as gone, the rest of the children staying on the platform chat about what it will be like when it’ll be their turns.

 

“Albus and I are going in two years! I. Can’t. Wait!!” yells Rose excitedly as they exit the train station.

 

“Not if I have something to say about it,” mumbles Ron. He still has a hard time believing that his little girl is already 9, he can’t imagine how he will feel when she will the one boarding that train.

  
He figures he has two more years before he can worry about it.


	55. October

Rose is beginning to walk, holding on tightly to a tiny trolley as she wobbly makes her way around the house.

Harry just apparated at their places, avoiding Ginny. Apparently, she got mad at him because he let James play with her old Holyhead Harpies Quaffle. She’s pregnant again and has mood swings. They were inexistent during her first pregnancy, but are now an unexpected and not always pleasant discovery of this second one.

Coincidentally, Rose decides to take her first steps that day, as if she had waited for the three of them to be around her to witness it.

Ron and Hermione are giving Harry advice when Hermione hushes them,  motioning toward the little girl.

Rose doesn’t realise she’s walking towards her mother until Hermione catches her and congratulates her.  They all look at each other in awe, tears in their eyes and pride in their chests. The baby then makes the best sound she’s ever hear, a proud giggle. Afterwards the biggest smile on her face soars, before she turns around and walks towards her father on wobbly legs.

Three weeks later Ron and Hermione find out they’re going to be parents again.

 **  
**Hermione feels time slipping from her fingers. She tries not to let it scare her and instead enjoys as much of the present as she can.


	56. November

They’re walking around London on a bright sunny November day, the crispy air cold but not too cold.

 

Ron is holding Hugo’s hand and she’s holding Rosie’s. They are  approaching the tower of London when their daughter stops next to her.

 

A river of right red poppies are flowing in front of them.

 

“Look at all the pretty poppies mum!” Rose says enthusiastically as she points at them.

 

Hermione and Ron share a look. For muggles, the poppies only represents the fallen warriors and veterans of World War I, but Hermione can’t shake the memories of the war _they_ fought 16 years ago. She squeezes her husband’s hand.

 

A minute pass, through which she mournfully remembers the fallen, before her daughter grabs her hand asking why there is so many poppies.

 

She explains the muggle war that happened a hundred years ago and instantly, their too bright eight years old daughter understands what it also means to them.

 

They haven’t talked much about the Wizarding War, but Rose is aware that they fought in it and that her uncle died during the battle, so did Teddy’s parents.

 

The child gets somber all the sudden, and in that instant Hermione wishes her daughter could stay small and innocent forever. It doesn’t surprise her when she asks to have her own poppy attached to her coat.

 

“To remember uncle Fred, and Teddy’s parents,” she declares seriously, “and for you and dad.”

 

It amazes her that children can reach such a deep understanding on such awful events. Later that night, Rose asks question about the Wizarding War. Hermione does her best to explain what happened, and how Ron, Harry and hers fought for what was right.

 

As she kisses her daughter goodnight, Hermione sees the poppy pin on Rose’s bedside table. She silently thanks all the people who fought for their freedom.

  
That night, nightmares will haunt her, but they will only be that. _Nightmares._


	57. December

She feels so alone.

 

She misses her friends. She misses Harry,  _ and _ Ron, no matter how mad at him she is. 

 

Hermione hadn’t realised how quiet she’d been since she got home until her mother came to talk to her the night before. She cried, feeling somehow calmer afterwards. Talking with her mother helped, and Hermione suddenly remembered that she is seventeen and allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts now.

 

The thought brightens her up, she can finally share something of her world with her parents. She feels her heart constrict slightly, knowing that going to Hogwarts is driving them further apart. She doesn’t know how to fix it. Right now everything seems broken, her relationship with her wizard friends or rather, absence of it and the one with her very  _ not  _ magical parents.   

 

Determined to do something about it, she decides to start where she is. Home, with her parents.

 

On Christmas morning, she wakes up early and using magic, she makes them a feast for breakfast. When her parents enter the small kitchen, they look pleasantly surprised and it warms her heart.

 

“It smells good!” her father cheers, obviously famished at the sight of all the food.

 

“You made all off this?” her mother exclaims a little dumbfounded. 

 

“Magic has its perks,” Hermione shrugs nonchalantly.

 

She's nervous as she invites them to go to the dining room. She’s closed the curtains, plunging the room in peaceful darkness and charmed three dozen candles to float effortlessly above their head. She turned ceiling into a beautiful and vast starry night sky that makes both her parents gasp.

 

Suddenly, she feels small, afraid of having gone too far. After all, they aren’t used to magic like she is.

 

“I- I wanted you to see what I saw when I entered Hogwarts for the first time,” she hears herself say quietly. 

 

She remembers the grandeur of the great hall, the feeling of excitement coursing through everyone and the sensation of _ belonging _ , and how all of it had taken her breath away that night. 

 

Gazing at a smaller version of it, that, six years later,  _ she _ made happen using  _ her _ magic, brings tears to her eyes. 

 

She dares to look at her mother, who is watching her with mirroring tears and so much pride. Hermione cannot stop the strange mix of laughter and sob escape her mouth before hugging her parents tight. 

  
Maybe, just maybe, they aren’t as broken as she thought they were.


	58. January

 

The morning of their wedding, snow falls effortlessly and she enjoys the moment of quiet as she watches it fall. 

 

Minutes before, Ginny dragged her out of Ron’s bed at the Burrow because she was supposed to be spending the night in hers at her parents. She couldn’t bear to be away from Ron when there was nothing to force them apart. 

 

The forecast announces snow fall for the whole day and Hermione pictures the garden at the Burrow, where they will celebrate their union, covered in white. She sighs contentedly, feeling everything falling in place.  

 

Then Ginny comes back in, Fleur and Hermione’s her mother in tow and there is nothing quiet and peaceful about their arrival. The next three hours are a blur of makeup, dresses, laughter as every woman in her close entourage gives her advice on how to maintain a good marriage. 

 

She nearly chokes on her tea when Ron’s aunt Muriel whispers to her that it’s all about keeping her man satisfied, adding a saucy wink for good measure.

 

Suddenly, Hermione gets more nervous than she remembers being in a long time. She tries to pinpoint what makes her apprehensive. After all, Ron and her are already living together and everyone tells them they’ve been acting like a married couple for decades. Ginny, always able to read her, Ginny smiles as she retells the events of the Yule Ball and how Krump being her cavalier made Ron see green. Every woman in the room laughs and look at her with a knowing grin. 

 

Hermione feels everything shift. The nerves dissipates and the quiet serenity she felt as she watched the snow fall envelops her once again.

 

Because she’s marrying her best friend and they’ve been by each other’s side for  _ years _ . And yes, they’ve had tough times, and the war changed them, and sometimes she cannot take how insufferable he can be. But she knows they can make things work. They’ve been through so much. They’ve known each other  _ before  _ and  _ after _ . 

 

Yet, years later, they’re still together.

 

She recalls standing in the dusk, on the beach of Shell Cottage, after escaping what should have been certain death. She remembers the salty breeze, the waves crashing like nothing had changed, like her world hadn’t been turned upside down, like she hadn’t almost  _ died. _ She remembers Ron standing tall next to her, slipping his hand in hers and not saying a word. 

Hermione recalls of how calm she’d felt then, and how sure that if they’d made it out of the war alive, he would be the one she’d spend her life with. Marriage, kids, career, she had wanted it all, with him by her side.

 

She still does.

 

Later, when they twirl on the dance floor as a married couple, she smiles gleefully and tells him she loves him, feeling as calm and alive as she had years before when she’d first dreamt of this day.


	59. February

One day she realises that Ron basically lives with her. 

 

They haven’t officially moved in together, but he spends most night in her flat and slowly but surely some of his stuff has found its place her space. 

 

Things like a toothbrush permanently staying in her bathroom, his favourite Chudley Cannons blanket on her couch, his clothes in her laundry, his favourite mug on the kitchen table... The more she looks around the more she sees bits of pieces of him everywhere she lays her eyes. 

 

Instead of the wild panic she expected to experience when they reached that stage, she feels calm and happy. Grounded even. 

 

She isn’t sure he’s aware of it though and she figures they ought to have a talk about it. Make it official somehow. 

 

That night, she reveals in the sensation of his body against her. Her body’s still buzzing with pleasure and they’re both trying to catch their breaths when she speaks. 

 

“Do you like your place?” She murmurs a little hoarsely.

 

“Um, yeah I guess. But I like staying with you better, it has its perks,“ Ron wiggles his eyebrows as his hands dance against her ribs. She shivers as a deep rush of affection and pleasure run through her. “Plus,” he continues, serious all the sudden,”now Ginny is always around and as happy I am for Harry and her, I cannot be witness of it all the time.” He almost stops there, but his eyes searches her face and seems to find something she’s not telling. “Why do you ask?”

 

She’s suddenly afraid to tell him she’s noticed his stuff all around her flat. 

 

“Well, it’s just that, some of your things seems to have made their way permanently in my flat and I was wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to move all your stuff here,” she pauses holding her breath, ”for good you know.”

 

He looks at her, eyes slightly too bright and she isn’t sure what to make of his expression. It’s rare when she cannot read him these days.

 

Before she can second guess herself, he replies with a smile bigger than she’s seen in a long time. 

 

" Well, I guess most of my shit is here anyway…,” he laughs, “ is this your way of asking me to move in with you?”

 

“Is  _ this _ your way of answering?” She huffs, “ _ I guess most of my shit it here _ ? Are you ser-”

 

He shuts her up with a kiss that makes her toes curl and her insides melt. When they’re both breathless again, he tells her he loves her, his lips brushing against her collarbone. Her nails draw circles on his back as she feels him harden against her thigh. 

 

This - them, _intentionally_ _living together_ \- is going to be good. 


	60. March

They all quietly return to the cottage after Dobby’s burial. 

 

Hermione can’t think properly, can’t process everything that happened and brought them to this moment.

 

They came so close to losing it all. 

 

Dobby’s death, as heroic as it was, makes the war all too real. She can still hear Ron’s screams of anguish, her body still trembles and burns. 

 

Before entering the small house, she turns to look at the sea. She watches the waves crash on the sand, the seagulls fly free above them and yet, it’s Ron’s hand low on her back warm and soothing, that grounds her the most. 

 

She’s in pain, emotionally and physically. And so  _ so _ tired of running. There’s been this sword of Damocles above their heads for years. She’s all too aware of it. It almost slit her throat earlier today, but killed Dobby instead.

 

She wants everything to stop, just for a minute, so she can catch her breath.

 

But, nothing will stop and no matter how torn apart she feels, the world will keep on spinning.

 

In this instant, it quickly all becomes too much to bear. She locks herself in the bathroom, claiming the shower and  ignoring the pained looks of her friends. She puts a silencing charm on the door as soon as she closes it and lets her sorrow out. 

 

Hermione turns the shower on, burning her skin with water, trying to relieve her body of the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. Fleur’s potions helped, but she can still feel the fire clawing from inside, trying to get out of her skin. She cries as steam fills the bathroom and her skin turns red. She thinks of her parents that she misses, and though she knows they are far and safe, she wishes she could see them and find comfort in their embrace. Her mother would know how to make the world disappear and kiss her pain away, even if it’s only for a moment. She closes her eyes and immediately she pictures Ron and Harry running away in the woods before they got caught, curses flying around them. She almost lost them, again, and the thought of it is so painful she hears herself growl, angry tears mixing with the water pouring down her head. Like a wave rising, memories of Bellatrix straddling her and cutting her skin flood her and she desperately tries to shake the visions away. They only come in harder, and Hermione can  _ taste _ the blood that rose in her throat as Bellatrix screamed, her wand shaking with anger and excruciating fire growing stronger.

 

Hermione punches the wall, trying to feel something,  _ anything, _ other than the lingering burning inside her. She manages is to twist her wrist but she welcomes the new pain. Deep thundering anger, fear, sadness and agony pour in, making her dizzy.

 

She thinks of Neville’s parents, cursed to insanity and she’s scared it’ll happen to her. 

 

She grabs the soap, trying to refocus on the simpleness of a warm shower in this safe haven. It won’t last, she’s fully aware of it, but for now, she’ll relish in it.  _ Baby steps and small victories, _ she presumes.

 

The soap stings the cut on her neck and the marred skin of her arm. She pulls herself back together as she numbly watches the grim water being washed away. 

 

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, lighter and more tired than she’s ever felt, Ron is sitting on the floor across the door. 

 

_ He waited up for her. _

 

He doesn’t say a thing, just gets up and shrugs timidly. 

 

The love she feels for him, right this instant, is so strong that she can’t stop the tears from rushing back. 

 

He takes the two steps between them and engulfs her in a hug so quickly, she barely has time to notice own his red rimmed eyes.

 

They get lost in their embrace for longer than what friends would, and it’s only when Bill coughs awkwardly next to them that they part, their hands linking together absentmindedly. 

 

“Erhm, right,” Ron says softly, “You should go lie down.” His thumb draws small soothing circles on her wrist.

 

She doesn’t want to let him go but she knows he’s right. 

 

“Fleur left you some Sleeping Draught on the bedside table,” Bill informs her. Hermione almost tells him that she won’t need it, she is so exhausted she feels like she could sleep for days. But then she realises she’ll probably have nightmares or resurging fits of pain and she simply nods thankfully. 

 

She squeezes Ron’s hand before releasing it and she turns toward the guest bedroom where Fleur took her earlier. She doesn’t close the door, afraid that in the silence, her dark thoughts could drown her.

 

Whispered voices and hushed tones lull her to sleep.


	61. April

She looks around the apartment and sense the tears rising. She’d like to blame the hormones on this but she’s pretty sure that she saw Ron get teary earlier too and she’s fairly certain he isn’t seven months pregnant too. 

 

This is their first place. The first flat where it was just the two of them. And now they are moving out because they’ll be three soon and they needed a bigger place for their family. A house. Her heart does some somersaults every time she thinks about their new house. Some days she looks back at what her life has been and she can’t really believe how she got where she is today.

 

They finished moving all the furnitures and boxes an hour ago, leaving the flat empty of its memories of the two of them. She stares at the living room, it seems bigger somehow now that it’s empty. Less welcoming. 

 

She looks around, stocking up memories made within these walls, trying to mark them all in her memory for eternity. They’ve learned so much of who they wanted to be in here. 

She remembers that stormy night, as they were curled up on the couch and Ron had looked at her hesitantly before confessing that he was going to quit the Aurors and go work with George. They were watching a movie, she doesn’t recall what it was, it doesn’t seem to matter now. Ron had looked at her, eyes wide and yet so determined. She had been so proud of him even though a million questions had crossed her mind. She had struggled to get them out of her head. 

 

_ You’ve wanted to be an Auror for as long as I remember? _

 

_ Yeah, I know. It’s not as glamorous as I thought it was going to be when I was eleven.  _

 

_ You love working with Harry.  _

 

_ I’ll still see him.  _

 

_ You’re good at it. _

 

_ I can be good at something else. _

 

_ What prompted this?  _

 

_ I don’t know, it’s a mix of different things I guess. I hate the paperwork, I don’t like being away from you when I’m on missions, I hate that you worry about me, George needs me and I him more than the Aurors do, I’m tired of risking my life, I just want to do something that I like and be with you. I think I’ll be happy at the shop and I’m always happy with you. _

 

_ I love you and I’m proud of you, not matter what you decide to do, you know that right? _

 

And then he had kissed her and they’d spend the night on the couch rediscover their bodies until they’d eventually moved to the bedroom. 

 

Hermione sights as she looks at the empty bedroom, a new pang of nostalgia hits her as she hears street noise through the open window.

 

_ Here, today’s Daily Prophet delivered directly to your bed Ms Granger.  _

 

_ Pfff please, all you did was feeding the owl, you didn’t even had to get up.  _

 

_ I’ll have you know tha- _

 

And then a loud bang had come from outside as they heard a couple arguing downstairs through the open window. Ron had gotten up after five minutes of intense bickering to get popcorn (a perfectly healthy breakfast thank you very much). They spent the next hour listening and making hush comments about who was going to win the argument, the Daily Prophet long forgotten at the bottom of the bed. 

 

She had proposed the next day. The owl delivered the Daily Prophet, she had begun to read it, Ron reading over her shoulder when she’d paused, knowing that this is what she wanted her life to be every day. Lazy mornings, read the Prophet together, listen to the downstairs neighbours argue, even the burnt dinners and hurried breakfasts because she hated to be late. Yes, this is what she wanted her life to be. So she’d proposed and he’d said yes, because he wanted this life too. 

 

Hermione holds back a sob, turning away from the bedroom and heading to the kitchen with a heavy heart. 

 

There is a small ink stain on the table that would be really easy to remove with the flick of a wand but neither of them had wanted to. Harry tried to once, and they’d both yelled at him not to. 

 

Ron had been writing a letter to Charlie, keeping him in the loop on how things were at home and with their family when she spoke, startling him, therefore spilling the ink.

 

_ I think we should have kids. _

 

_ … _

 

_ Ron? _

 

_ I heard you. _

 

_ You spilled some ink. _

 

_ Oh. _

 

_ So, kids? _

 

_ I heard you the first time. _

 

_ Well, what do you think? _

 

_ What happened? _

 

_ What do you mean ‘what happened’? _

 

_ Where is this coming from? Are you pregnant and this is your way of telling me? _

 

_ No I’m not pregnant, as if I’d announce I was pregnant by starting with ‘we should have kids and oh by the way, it’s already happening’! _

 

_ Hermione? _

 

_ Yes? _

 

_ Explain. _

 

_ I- I don’t know, I think we’re ready. We’re both at a good place professionally, we even have enough money put aside to look for a home an- _

 

_ We have a home. This is a home. _

 

_ House, I mean a house. I know you’re thinking about it too. I’ve seen how you look at your brothers and Harry with their children.  _

 

_ Yes of course I want kids, are we ready though? _

 

_ Can you ever be ready? _

 

_ Good point.  _

 

_ Does this mean that you want to start trying? _

 

_ Does trying mean more sex? ‘Cause I’m all for that. _

 

_ You’re impossible. _

 

_ Nothing I haven’t heard before love. Come on, let’s go make a baby. _

 

Little did she know that a few months later, she’d take him to the beach on a rainy november day and tell him she was pregnant. 

 

They put her first sonogram up on the fridge, holding it with a smiling llama magnet Ginny had gotten them after she covered the last Quidditch World Cup in Peru. 

 

She touches the now vacant spot, the sonogram safely tucked away in her bag with the magnet close by. 

 

It’s the first thing they put up in their new home that evening.


	62. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Don't get used to the sudden double update, the long weekend and a sudden hit of feels got me into writing haze despite the fantastic weather outside. Hopefully though, it means that I'm back at writing those two more regularly. This little piece has some call backs to Australia (by MsBinns), people who have read it will have no problem spotting it. If you haven't read Australia, I encourage you to, though it is not necessarily to read it before reading this._
> 
>  
> 
>  

She's always liked the end of May.

Summer was almost there and it was time for the end of the year exams at school, which mean she could pour her heart out and scribble all the things she knew.

Of course, since she'd become a witch, May had also somehow ended up being the month of horrible events. Yet they always pulled through. And now, years after the war ended, she looks back to this transitioning month with a bittersweet mix of sadness and happiness.

She can't help but remember what May also means for Ron and her. It's the month of their first kiss, and many other firsts. She smiles tenderly as she recalls their first time in the middle of nowhere in Australia and how awkward it had been.It's the first year that Rose and Hugo are both in Hogwarts together. And even though it's been hard to let their children go and find the house empty on September 1st, she knows that they are having a blast. She gets it by the letters they send, and also what they don't tell her, she learns from Neville. He makes good on his promise to keep an eye on the Weasley and Potter children, keeping her up to date on their last antics.

So in celebration of a peaceful month of May and an empty house, Hermione decides to surprise Ron with a little trip.

They take a Portkey to Athens and then another one to Syros. The water is a vibrant translucent blue and crickets sing around them when they land. She's booked a room in a small bed and breakfast by the sea. Their bedroom has tall windows that open onto a balcony overlooking the sea. The bed,  _gosh the bed,_  is huge, enclosed in a white iron canopy. White sheer curtains falling beautifully around it.

"Not that I am complaining," Ron says eyeing the bed before turning toward her. Her head is spinning, and she can't tell if it's the remnant of Portkey travel or the burning gaze Ron is giving her, "but why are we here?"

"I wanted to take you to Australia, but it felt like too long of a trip for only a couple of days," she fidgets with the hem of her blouse.

Ron stares at her dumbfoundedly, which she gets because they've never celebrated this particular  _anniversary_. She needs to make him understand and suddenly she's embarrassed to explain. The words come out quickly, in one breath, but she doesn't let herself waver or look away from him.

"So I know this is not the hard floor of a tent in the Australian desert, but I thought we deserved an upgrade, plus I really didn't want to go camping."

She watches him as understanding slowly floods him and she can't help but add one more thing. "It's been twenty years since our first time, and it really didn't cross my mind until I did the maths the other day and I was thinking we could use a vacation because you've been working so hard at the shop and I've been in meetings after meetings, and the kids will be home soon," she's babbling nervously now, she's aware she's babbling but she can't seem to be able to stop. "I thought it'd be fun to commemorate that terrible attempt at sex. Not that sex is not good now, it is,  _so good_. We're really  _really_ good at it and I don't know why I keep talking please make me st-"

Closing the distance between them with two long stride, he kisses her hungrily, wrapping his arms around her back, urging her closer.

He looks at her with a mix of amusement and lust. Warmth pools her inside and she doesn't understand how he can still affect her like this, but she's glad.

His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, hands already reaching her blouse to unbutton it, "this is perfect."


	63. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _No this is not a hallucination, this is indeed an update on my 100 drabbles more than a year after the last one I posted... What can I tell you, life has been busy and the inspiration has been away... I hope you'll like this little one and let's hope I'm back on the writing train!_

They end up taking a weekend off, just the two of them.

Ron quit the Aurors a year ago to go work with George. And even though Hermione had been a little afraid at first that he would regret quitting, she had been pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

Within days he started to move around with a deep sense of contentment that she hadn't remember him ever wearing. He told her that he had all he needed. _He's happy._

It brought contentment and quietude in her life that she didn't know she craved.

And that she misses as she overworks herself.

She's suffocating at work. Working at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures isn't quite what she imagined and she finds herself feeling stuck. Instead of working on things that deeply matter to her, Hermione spends her days swamped in paperwork, trying to accomplish the work of ten people. When she gets home, she can't shake her itch to do something more meaningful so she doesn't catch her breath and continues to writes for hours, this time scribbling pages after pages of a proposition of law defending werewolves.

It has been occurring to her that she should transition toward the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, like Scrimgeour dimly predicted all those years ago. There's only so much she can do in Regulations. Hermione yearns for a more proactive position, but she knows that despite all her accomplishments she still needs to prove others - or maybe it's just herself - that even though she's only 21, she can help shape new laws and help their government evolve to install positive change.

Ron tells her she is more valuable to both department than most their combined staff reunited.

She still feels like _she needs to do more._

And she works so much she barely sees Ron anymore. The serenity she has been feeling spread thin because of that, replaced by restlessness and the sensation that her lungs are collapsing.

Ron has always been good at helping her stop spiralling in her own head. But lately he's also been pulling longer hours at the shop. School is about to be out for the summer and lots of Hogwarts students are stacking up for their holidays.

Which is why she's surprised when he shows up at her desk at lunch on a Friday and tells her that he's kidnapping her for the weekend, no work allowed.

She wants to say yes, very much, but she takes a look around the files spread across her desk and there is _so many things_ she still needs to get done.

But before she can tell Ron just that he cuts her off with a wave of his hand, "your work will still be there waiting for you on Monday."

He's been so much better at reading her this past year, warmth pools her insides because she loves him _so damn much._

She doesn't take another second to think against it, trusting Ron's spontaneity more than her overworked brain. Hermione sends a note to her head of department to tell her that she will be taking the afternoon off before quickly putting her files in order.

Ron gives her hand a light squeeze as she reaches for him for a quick kiss and they are off.

It turns out he rented a small cottage on the outskirt of Roadford lake. The tiny house is surrounded by trees and has a tiny porch that looks out to the lake.

It's perfect.

And just like that she can breathe again.


End file.
